Along the shore are posted
Floating circles of ice,
Some of them perfect rings, forged and set with
Constant tone and exact diameter.
Others are elliptical –
Their oval frames stretching,
Decked with crystalline rime, to cast bright charm
Against the inky darkness of the lake –
A seizing cold Rorschach test
That conjures dreams and moods
More malleable, more open to the warmth
Which would cascade from melting heart and lips
If you'd consent, doff your glove,
Permit me take your hand.
From Tower Poetry, Volume 61 #1 Summer Edition 2012