By Hailey Williams

You’ve seen reeds freeze, haven’t you?
Their fingers sheathed in foggy ice,
fibers melting near the top, and
spinning gossamer water strands that twirl
while they descend, halting at the gust of cold
becoming ice again.

You’ve felt a thought become a word, haven’t you?
Threads of frost
that laced themselves together,
and you wept it from your hands
to mark a message in the snow
and warm a loved one in the cold.
Your poet’s glove engraved the marble ice,
and donning winter cloak,
you shivered gently in the frozen glow and
almost found comfort in the sober chill.
An absence nags, swims on the hem of your thoughts.
Nostalgia for the spring humming and
awaiting the next thaw.

A Winter of Metaphors
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