The dead of night, after a deep snow, While the clouds still drift the land -- slow. Fog and mist stream upward to meet, Those heavy clouds as they lumber in sleep. Lights of the city found all around. Both help and hurt while you travel the ground. Shards like glass, water carries the light, but in distance, twists and warps, your sight. Sounds or movement normally the air would carry, Now are muted, faint and a tad bit scary. A sound, a movement thought to be quite distant. Could be next to you, surprising you in an instant. It is in these darkened nights, and the eerie glow, while others, indoors, dreams flying to and fro. A chance, a moment, or the lingering half glance, You just could be part of something more than life's dance. A road sign appears to break your concentration. Watch for ICE on bridge, its only communication. Eyes flash quickly back to the road dead ahead, Was that movement on the bridge, spanning the riverbed? To be sure it is, in the road's mid-stride. Ice blocks leaping from the river like a tide. Slide and scooting, to the other side they make. Only to jump, falling back, in grand escape. For those who have not seen, please don't be alarmed. Those signs are posted to keep you safe and unharmed. Just be mindful of the bridge as you come near. Ice blocks could be flying, so heed and stay clear. --Aine 2010