Black ice.
At night I walk
with care. Each step
on point.
Then . . .
beneath my back is black.
My eyes fixed on stars, of cold and diamond flame.
Ice. Black ice.
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Black Ice
Black ice.
At night I walk
with care. Each step
on point.
Then . . .
beneath my back is black.
My eyes fixed on stars, of cold and diamond flame.
Ice. Black ice.
Shirley Buxton 
2 replies on “Black Ice”
I know this story! I too have fallen, but fortunately I also got up many years ago. I am glad you were okay. Here in Canada all the snow was coated with freezing rain, so we know have white ice all around us!
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Some have contacted me personally, expressing their grief about my falling. I did fall as described, but it was many, many years ago. I remain hale and hearty!
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