There was a ring around the moon,

the tracks of winter birds

were shadows under

the light of a street lamp.


Walking along the icy road,

the snow banks almost

taller than myself.


That morning we’d had

a snowball fight;

knocking the icicles off the roof,

and chasing each other

through snow drifts.


Now everything was silent

the moon, the snow, the light,

were humming with silence-

except the creaking icicles

growing in the shadows of the eaves.