They yank on their skates,
criss-cross the laces and
tug on my hand with stubby fingers.
The ice is thick and crusted with
Pondscum and cattails are hidden
under the marbled crust
Like the ice that coated the lake
when he cracked it and
No fishhooks today, no pike or perch,
only mittens and hot chocolate
They glide and twirl and
slip-slide on white but
I only see him,
beneath the surface.
They didn't hear the crack or the splash,
they just want to dance—
I can't leave the bank.