There is a name written
In the scratched,
Snow-blown glass that
They are having trouble
Melt away.
Warm rag,
Hot breath,
Shoe,
Stone and rock,
Nothing works.
Which is true
Of most things
We do, isn't it?
Things just
Don't work.
The sleet
Won't melt
Or
The sun
Won't shine
Or
The tree
Won't cover
Or, or
Or.
What is happening,
You may ask yourself?
This lack
Of sustenance?
This step back
From nature?
Then, the passage ends.
The window
It clear, revealing the edge
Of their life
They thought they had lost forever.