This is a 15 minute poem, an idea from this intriguing blog.

A Cold Walk at the Lake

The Air is dry and no white condensation

billows out of our mouths as we talk

Hunched in our layers

trudging at first

then as we find the warm place

in our stride

we able to almost ignore

the numbness of our extremities

At the end of the circle

around the darkening water

two owls speak

gentle penetrating questions

as the shadows fill up

the empty spaces in what is

left of the day.