I’ve been watching my local creek respond to a prolonged spell of bitter cold. Like a living, growing scab, solid ice has covered the surface. It’s both beautiful and evil. Continuously forming, fascinating patterns appeared. It tempts me to trust; “Take a step.” In most places the ice was inches thick.
But elsewhere were pockets of deception. Having started this formation week’s ago, when the water level was higher, there are places where a half-inch thick crust now hangs above a four-inch-thick pocket of air. Separated from the still-flowing water underneath, growth stopped. And so the angel of sound warned with a hollow crack.
I marveled. I slid. I listened. But I will never trust.