by on February 17, 2020 :: 0 comments

Strange alphabets fall
from my chattering teeth
to land on this blanket of shadows.

Ice-minded thoughts
turn dreams to stone.
I chip at the unbreakable,

find the muse encased in an icicle
like a violet, her voice sparking
a thousand colors in the sun.

The day cracks and shatters
into crystals as she dances out.
Diamonds and emeralds ring their bells.

She sings with this music
of chapels and says love
can never be preserved in ice,

scatters ideas like snowflakes,
white birds, cottonwood seeds,
each unique and delicately carved.

Time frozen in my fist
melts and slips away.

Her breath carries traces
of trade winds.

editors note:

The wiles of winter will have their way, just a little longer… – mh clay

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