FROZEN SUNSET
The orb of the setting sun sat on the lake,
Now frozen and snow covered, no break
Of waves on that solid icy shore so still,
No gentle lapping to the wind’s strong will.

Loose snow scurried like a sweet mist of pink,
The early dying sun, seemed to stop and think,
And linger to see the beauty that it made for man
To see in this deserted spot all the beauty that it can.

In the distance a mines’ chimney’s grey spillage
Turned into a warm, dusty pink. A wondrous visage,
Changed from it’s dirty dull self into working beauty,
Grey pink clouds from it, decking the darkening sky.

The sun new lost over the ridge of trees in the west,
Silhouetted those tall pines, until they looked their best,
The shadows on that soft snowy lake were very long,
As the sun’s short stay blessed us with a silent song.

M Ann Margetson December 1, 2001