River Tangle

A tangle of reed and snow, and somewhere below them, ice and cold clear waters running free.

When Spencer and I stopped on the bank of the river to look yesterday, the hidden river below the tangle was singing, and icicles suspended from nearby trees provided the percussion. The trees and telephone wires overhead formed a vast Aeolian harp, the north wind playing its chosen instrument like a virtuoso. There were wild musics everywhere we turned.