I look into the grayish distance
and see a few shy stems of grass
poking through the disappearing
ice and snow.

An overwhelming sense
of quiet flies over like a ghostly goose
honking and hovering impossibly low,
a mirage of disproportionate sadness.

The ice that had taken so long to congeal
in what seemed like a grotesque gesture
back then is shedding away
its over-sweating and exhausted soul.

Somehow, I feel a warmth that comes
from a deep understanding of all the minute
movements that encourage a thawing
forest into releasing
the accumulated dark and slimy essence
of love and beauty. The droplets keep coming
ever so sweet, unaware of the frigid hand
that tries to coax them back
into wrapping themselves around the odd surfaces
and the decaying falls. Nothing can stop them now.

So I smile, I glow in the cool warmth
that crunches under my feet, just feeling
the sweet, candy-like surprises
that await to the point of bursting,
like perfect ice balls filled with ice water
ever so joyful in their quiet splendor.

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