This year it froze

more than last,

more than ever:

ninety percent,

say ubiquitous They

who measure ice and thaw,

thick enough to walk,

a shivering stroll

to the ice caves.

It’s open to anyone

with a thick enough coat,

with nerve or obliviousness

enough to walk over

the deep water,

a solid foot between

feet and unknown worlds,

schools that swim unseen

and wrecks of years past

undisturbed still,

mistakes and memories

silent from the surface

where Masses mill,

point and smile

at all the pretty ice.