As I walked out one morning

As I walked out one morning
On the first day of November
The ice it cracked beneath my boots
The sun was just an ember

I stomped across the frozen mud
Eschewing bike and car
And headed for the snaking dijk
Beyond oud Zevenaar

To the west was Germany
Marked out by church and mound
I headed east, along the ridge
In search of wilder ground

I skidded down the polder
Soil and ice slid down like scree
Then through a sudden, snow-blind storm
A strange, strange sight did see

Around a sheltered, frozen lake
A crowd did play and sport
With snowball, skate and steaming soup
With song and dry retort

Through a hole stabbed in the ice
A huddled figure angled
But someone whacked him from behind
And cried "your rod is mangled…

Your catch too small, your hook too bent."
His voice rose to a yelp
Then all at once the angry crowd
Ran to provide some help