Cleveland, Nikka Hronis

Begin with grey skies
          clouded forecast
                      clouded judgment


Frosted buildings
into a slow thaw


Hope and desperation
into the slippery ghost
          of “maybe next year”


Continue with the lake
          miles of iced waves
                      abandoned into utter stillness
unstirring in the industrial chill


20 years later the
lake still breathes his name
and finds us solid


Conclude with the snow
          a city suspended
                      in weightless jubilation


Ten inches of silence
settle over the traffic
          a hushed fury


While spring still
scratches at its frozen
eager to shatter
          the icy peace