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.