Some ice breakup on the Bark River. Pax and I watched several floes revolve slowly and crunch together in an ineffective effort to move downstream.

Skies remain gray and the temperature is slowly slipping back toward freezing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's something special about brief poems, and this one, consisting of two tercets, is rather fun to puzzle over.

As Bad as a Mile

Philip Larkin

Watching the shied core
Striking the basket, skidding across the floor,
Shows less and less of luck, and more and more

Of failure spreading back up the arm
Earlier and earlier, the unraised hand calm,
The apple unbitten in the palm.