Pond Song 4.8
Sunday again the pond empty
the wind glitters with loose snow
the heavens hammer steeper blues
there are signs to take it slow
wind at my back and in my face
the silence thickens with each minute
the horizon opens beyond sound
a crow’s call with the crow in it
pond songs 
Limited as I necessarily am by time and place and temperament, I find that my capacity to enjoy your poetry is greatly enhanced by this new kind of presentation on the page….lovely..