April 17: Commitment
There is an icy pond,
its opposite shore you commit to reaching.
You commit to reaching it on foot.
On foot, walking the diameter on your rubber soles.
Your rubber soles are slick and packed with snow.
Snow, clumpy and fresh-fallen, resting on the surface.
The surface covered, its grays and darks invisible from here.
From here you gaze, you size up the goal.
The goal, tufts of grass peeking around the frozen rim.
The frozen rim winks its challenge and widens.
Widens to engulf, then defeats.