early christmas morning

they are dragging the lake
on this early Christmas morning.

the men in blue, gloved,
with over coats and hats standing
at the edge

of the broken pond, the shards
of ice
opened to a sky
of blue.

someone has wandered off
in the night,
full of gin or rye,
perhaps fallen,

stepping gaily onto the sheet
of ice,

sliding, sliding until it
gave way.

no one is sure of anything, so
they're dragging
the lake

on this Christmas morning,
while the children in their houses,
warm
and gifted,
pay no mind.