At Holyrood the winter hangs suspended.
Juncos stitching scallops across the sky.
Ponds glistening in white winter coats
Lying hard and low on the crouching water,
Waiting for the skeech and shuss of skates.
Speeding along the boardwalk, the dog and I
Pause and listen to the pounding of the surf
Roaring at the chattering of the beach stones,
Falling back, helpless, frothing at the mouth.