What follows is an open letter to the author of this poem.BR>
Don't know if I mentioned this yet, but I really like 'split at your sight'. It makes me think of spitting in eyes, and 50's teenagers sliding across the hoods of their cars.

I feel you may be worried by skitter and scatter; don't be, I didn't notice the similarity consciously until the 3rd sitting.

I understand the 3rd stanza as a transition, from you to the world, but I can't do much else with it. The sound in my mind is an involuntary whimper or sob, because you're worried that the world could devour you at will, if it noticed you.

I can't decide if the trees are pious or not, whether they're doing the work of God or not. At first I thought they were, but on second thought I've decided that they are living, and sinful and tormented, while it is the inanimate stuff that is holy. I continue to be fond of the idea of the holiness of desolation.

I'm under the impression that the ice both keeps us, the dirty leaves and such, from the water, and also amplifies the sound.

The hypen in clean-white gives me pause; before I noticed it, I was reading it with a comma, the hypen makes me think of laundry ads.

Are you sure it's one poem? I can see how it could be, cleanliness and filth tie it together.

The last stanza sets the time frame explicitly as early spring, which goes nicely with the trees and the barefoot god. Bright one can be the sun, in which case the white foot is a sunbeam, but the sky is gray. hmm.

'my silence' worries me, it sounds tranquil, when you were skittering a moment before. I just realized what it is, it has major Simon & Garfunkel undertones. If I worked at it, I might be able to make peace between this poem and "Sounds of Silence", but I don't want to try, it feels wrong. _
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