After twenty bedded years,
there is, and is not, much to say.
Mosses dry and shriveled leaves
starve the low-flying chickadee,
which battens on green conifer trees,
cracking hardened shells of seeds,
its winter body acting froggily:
settling in for the deep freeze.
Lurking in the depths are things
better wrapped in mucky leaves.
Cold frogs in a fallow pond
drifting with their murky grace
reveal the wintry wiles of waiting--
surface water freezes tight,
yet the depths of this great tarn
cradle frog and weedy moon.
What will freeze will yet be love,
with the cold skin of this winter pond.
We'll awaken slowly, each in our own way.
Carol Alexander is a New York City-based author and editor. A writer for trade and educational publishing, she has authored numerous children’s books, served as a ghostwriter for radio and trade publishing, and taught at colleges around the metropolitan area. In 2011-2012, her poetry appears in literary journals and anthologies published by Chiron Review, Cave Moon Press, The Canary, Danse Macabre, Earthspeak, Fade Poetry Journal, Fat Daddy’s Farm Press, Mobius, Numinous, OVS, and The Whistling Fire.