Ice

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.