In the pre-dawn darkness,
I make my way carefully
from the house toward the horse pen.
The few inches of snow
I chose not to shove or shovel
from the driveway three weeks ago
has turned into a hard-packed ice sheath,
doubly dangerous
in the slight thaw of the past two days
and freshly glazed
with each night’s new freezing.
More often than seen,
a thing chosen for convenience
becomes the means of danger,
a snare for the unaware,
a threat even when taking care
for each sliding step.
H. Arnett
1/7/13
