River in January

The river 

looks different

this morning.

She keeps

her song

close.

Ice gathers,

dark in the middle,

lighter at the edges.

Snow settled.

Her line

still there,

barely.

Movement lies

beneath the surface,

taking longer

to cross the light.

The sun stays low.

Ice holds her warmth.

Below,

the river keeps to itself,

finding a deeper line,

letting the shallows go.

Snow softens

Sound thins.

Cold steadies.

The current slows

beyond wind,

beyond hurry,

beyond the light.