House Fronts

House fronts tall beyond the lake––

In powdered wintry pine. Long, the faces, of their fronts,

And long this path of mine.

My companion is the wind, And sky's pale passing blue, And maybe all this crunching snow,

That slows my getting through.

Snow on ice on water deep,

If anything is just, Maybe I shall break in travel––

Falling through this crust.

Or maybe I will just get through,

This wall of standing snow.

Maybe trudging bids me see,

That God is not my foe.

Photo by Tracy Adams