Icicle spears cry frozen tears
Down off the cottage eave
Glassy knives outside their sheaves
Long, hard, and crystal clear

Stuck to the edges of the roof
Stabbing the frosty air
Like serial killers immune to prayers
Who menace the front porch stoop

Behind the window, my mental task?
Don’t think of what ifs, ands, or pain
To borrow more trouble is but a bane
And most certainly icicles crash!

As sure as knowing seasons change
Cold fears thaw when spring’s peace
Gives you on loan an acceptance lease
When thoughts you rearrange

A deadly threat or beautiful sight?
Perhaps if I just keep trying
I’ll see that this makes up a circle that lies
In some truth that someday I’ll get right


Written by Sara Fielder © Dec 2013