At a Lake In Winter

In the nacre of morning light ice tendrils over cobbled stones touching lake's edge as surrounding crags plummet to the surface. An opaque sky preens diaphanous plumage as I, like Narcissus, ponder my reflection in winter's adumbral waters. My face flickers on the silent depths like a mirage, an anomaly of flesh and bone in isolated wilderness. I drop a pebble; the image scatters as though blown away by arctic wind. Soon encroaching cold will obscure the lake with a sheet of luminous crystal; I'll be gone by then like an alpine gust of summer that appeared suddenly through the spruce flocking to a frozen oasis below desolate summits. 12/16/18