Snow overnight. A thin sheet of ice on the pond beneath the slush. Wonderous tracks and marks this morning. Maybe the muskrats, or the mallards, or other birds, or the mice or voles? Maybe all of them, cavorting at dawn! Tracks in a row, wandering. Slide marks in the slush like a runway with bunched snow at the end. Cracks expanding in the ice, icy fingers spreading both black and white!
