Lake Erie is frozen as far as the eye can see right now. Farther than the eye can see, there are open areas in the lake; it very rarely freezes over totally. There is an awesome silence out on the lake's ice; you feel as if you were in a desert or a wilderness. The snow sweeps across the silent ice and you have a sense of holiness and prayer. Years ago I wrote a poem about the frozen lake:
"Lake Erie--Frozen Solid"
the awesome sight--huge
pressure domes of ice
heaved into ridges
chaotic frozen waves
far as the eye can see
wondrous powerful lake
I could walk to Canada
if I had the imagination.
This poem began in my mind as a description of Lake Erie in winter and ended up being a poem about the power of imagination. That is the thing about the creative process--it often surprises you, takes you in unexpected directions.
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