Susan Kolodny

Waiting in the café for my son
who has been struggling up
from under the ice, trying to find
where it is thin enough to break,
but thick enough to crawl up onto
and across to shore.  He'll be late.
Parking—it's Christmas Eve.
Also, rain. He'll be so cold
and wet. Still, he said "Wait for me.
I'll be there." And I tell myself he will.