by Ethel Mortenson Davis
One doesn’t unravel
when branches strain
with too much snow,
or the cold
makes the ground
sound hollow—
an empty sound.
One doesn’t unravel,
but instead the cold
wakes us up—
sharpens us
like the jagged ice
along the Bay–
Crying out to us,
“Stay back,
“Stay aware!”
fourwindowspress 
Another beautiful poem Ethel, so full to the brim with only a few words.
I have just bought your book on my kindle. 😊
You are a sweetheart. Thanks Ethel
The first three lines feel as if they are written by the heart itself, Ethel. A beautiful poem.
This is nice. Thanks. Ethel
This is wonderful, Ethel. The cold, and the danger – you make us feel it.