Frozen tundra. Minnesota hard freeze.
Pond thick with ice. Glazed top.
Blown snow ripples across the iced prairie.
All is white; the ground, the sky,
the breath hanging in the air.
I listen to the wind, a white noise.
A snow owl sweeps down and focuses on the only movement
in the barren landscape
lifting up into the barren sky
screeching over its kill.
He disappears into the white horizon.