January

The geese are still here
Circling this man-made lake,
One stays behind, standing lightly on the
Slowly thawing ice,
Goading on her airborne friends
Til she can't hear them anymore.
Seagulls are settling on lampposts inland
The rhythms are thrown 
My foot rocks the stroller back 
And forth and back and forth 
And somewhere underneath all those layers 
His chests rises and falls