A Grasping Hand 



Out of the eerie, misty, still haze ...

From the lake's ice, warming to the days

Comes an apparition, unique to eye

A grasping hand, reaching up to the sky



The branch lies so still upon the glass

Emerging from underneath - a mask ...

A face in the mushy, white, snow-capped sheet

An image of a shattered soul being beat



And as the melting ice's vapors rise ...

Defused by sun's rays (a quiet surprise)

Peeking out from layers of dark stillness

The branch suddenly wobbled (a near miss)



For the hand which reached out, up to the sky

Then turned on its axis, and stood quite high

And then the hand slowly dropped right out of view

Becoming immersed in the murky pond's glue



And the face which'd been so clearly etched

Opened its mouth with lips wide stretched  

As the soul way beneath the water's glassy crust

Suddenly belched, tossing up the icy truss ...



- Tristram



© Christopher W. Thomas

4:45pm Mon. Jan. 3rd, 2000