Winter Solitude

A figure stands in silhouette
on frozen sand grey
seen from the window
of a rented room-
the water should be iced,
yet runs up on the shore
dismissive of season and
the cold that makes every
thing else freeze in place.

I have turned the dial
on the thermostat
to warm the air
that cycles through the room
to keep off chill and
wonder at the figure, just there,
whose coat and scarf are
the only shield
against this arctic assault.

The fluid waving water
of the winter lake,
decidedly warmer than
the meteorological temperature
that headlines newscasts-
is not below zero,
so it is not frozen;
the figure moves along side,
seemingly not in want of company-
unaware of the cold that bears down
on those in isolating shelter.