I want to creep across window panes whispering frozen words into cracked glass.
I wish to wrap around deadened roots; embracing their stony surface as the wind cries.
I want to fly across continents carried by the arms of the soft breeze.
If only I could feel that rush as I swirled through the air over forests and fields.
I want to land on the soft cheek of one searching for shelter from bitter chill.
But I am the dew, and for now I cling only to the ground.
Here will I remain until the day's heat breaks my body, releasing me into the sky.