Spring Thaw

It's below zero
with a mean wind
under a clear blue sky,
crisp as only a
winter sky can be;
sun hard and white
glimmering the snow, which
whipped off branches
cuts our faces.
We slide into a ravine
then snowshoe along
a frozen creekbed
tufting the snow
in a criss-cross grid
crossing paths of grouse
and snowshoe rabbit;
hear chickadees calling
as they pick seeds
from the spruce overhead.
Soon we climb out
clump over the flats again
making our way to
the large creek
where we look down
from the heights
recall the thaw
two days earlier
see great grey ice pans
two feet thick
chunked on the banks
and the water freed,
eddies and churns
yellow with waste
defying the season.