Waiting for Spring
What do the ectotherms all think
when their pond becomes a small ice rink?
How do they breathe? What do they eat?
Do they drink or even blink?
How ultra-slow do their hearts beat
when they nearly have no body heat
as they hang in suspended animation
beneath that hard and thick ice sheet?
While skaters glide in figurations
do the fish and frogs feel strange vibrations?
Do the skaters ever think of those
dreaming beasts who, for the duration,
must feel as numb as a frozen nose?
Do the skaters, cheeks pink as a rose,
take any notice in their brains
of the life below their skates and toes?
Yet there they wait, blood in their veins
as still as the crystal cellophane.
Beneath the pond’s dense windowpane,
they feel no joy and feel no pain.
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(First published in Lucid Rhythms)