River in January

The river looks different

this morning.

She keeps

her song

close.

What remained

slowed,

then thickened.

Ice gathers,

dark in the middle,

lighter at the edges.

Snow has settled.

Her line

still there,

barely.

Movement

lies

beneath the surface,

taking longer

to cross the light.

The sun stays low.

Stillness

forms at the surface.

below,

the river keeps to itself,

finding a deeper line,

letting the shallows go.

Snow dulls

what remains visible.

Sound thins.

Cold steadies.

The current is held

from wind,

from hurry,

from loss.