In Memory of Lucille

Not for a great poet but for a neighbor no less dear

The Creek froze last night as life let loose its grip

And the mercury dropped in the mouth of the dying year

Not that man or beast could walk upon the thin ice sheet

Which had heaved up along the margins of the shoreline

Less than an inch thick, fresh and opaque enough

To track the chill waters coursing underneath

But the cars gathered in my neighbor’s driveway

Announced her crossing had just begun

As her breath must have guttered in her sleep

And now her spirit is bourn in a stilled passage 

Over the frozen waters of Weesuck Creek