The End of the Ice

I hiked to the last corner of the lake
beyond the train tracks,
in the shadow of the wood

to throw rocks through thin ice.
The first rock I threw was the biggest one
I could hurl underhanded, both arms between my legs.
I whipped stones straight down
through the thinnest ice. I broke off bits with my hands.
The cross-section showed that each water droplet had
frozen individually.

So many rocks and stones to throw.
A splash? Did I wake up a fish? I had been looking the other way.
A beaver swam out to see why all the commotion,
then rolled his eyes and turned back home.
A loon came too, then started hunting the fish I had disturbed.
I am part of nature too, I and my destructive behaviours.

Thank you for reading.

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