Frozen branches, like crystal carvings

Etched by the hand of winter, reach

Toward a sky made of slate,

Skeletal artifacts caught forever

In eternal supplication.

As I stand among them in a peaceful

Kind of solitude, these ice water dreams

Rise from brittle fields of lace-covered

Grasses, undead warriors whose curse

Was broken as they struggled from the earth.

Strange and beautiful they are, these trees

Donned in liquid glass, a still life fairytale

Of intricate design, caressed by a numbing,

Wind-choked silence that still carries nonetheless

A message of seasons turning on an unseen axis.

Frozen tears mourn falls passing, from that

Slate gray sky they coat naked trees but lend no

Warmth with the burden they carry, seeking only

What gravity will allow them to have, lashing out

In hopeless resignation against the forest far below.

END

Ice Water Dreams