My father, once in a severe winter
Took us to Lake Erie, vast frozen reach
We strapped on skates
He said, "Stay by the shore"
Then skated out of sight, beyond the horizon

Men were ice fishing, humped over a cut hole
Hand warmers filled with kerosene
My father came back as it grew dark
Red faced he flew toward us on bladed wings

Thoreau lay on his belly on Walden ice
Allowing the chill to enter his bones
My father flew off the world
Ice world, where the fish sleep

Where men drop bait and hook
Where the horizon curves, becomes sky
Where men, fish and children lean inward
Toward mystery, heat in the body, immeasurable cold