Aroostook Winter by John Mitchell

At deep winter the fields glazed with frozen snow.
Hard? Frozen so hard you could walk on it!
A subzero sun glared off it.
Crystal light reflected from the freezing moon.
Out the frost bordered window fox and deer
were seen running across it.
It looked like a cloud fallen from heaven--
and like heaven, it was for the dead.
Frozen nights creaked with the sound of graves;
and gave the feeling of things never melting--
of never ever getting back to unfrozen . . . .
Where's summer? Where foxes chase mice
through the pregnant world.