Poem: Mississippi Thaw

The air with fingers of warming winds

caresses the surface of your cold skin,

until the scream of a shot rings out,

tearing through layers of frozen,

you bleed icy waters,

lapping at the door of a forgotten fishing house,

a blue-tinged, five-gallon bucket sails off,

soon to be capsized beneath your unforgiving arms

and blanketed by silt,

or borne away to the Gulf of Mexico,

while the swells of spring wear away

at the diamond-crusted fortress of winter,

until he packs away his tools of freeze and frost,

and a bald eagle rises above broken rivulets,

fishing on tiny gizzard shad,

a resurrected spectator to the unfolding drama

of spring with fresh flowers braided into her hair,

intoxicated on the notion,

to unlock every shackle of winter tide until

the dam gates are open wide,

and your mighty waters rumble along unfettered,

like a freight train with no brakes.

The Post Bulletin publishes poetry by local and area writers every Tuesday. Send poems to life@postbulletin.com with the subject line "Poetry submission."