Sister Poetry

Cold and rigid, now,

you neither run,

nor rest

nor fall.

It seems that

all your need

is just to cling

to some sure thing

and yet ambivalent,

your thrust is downward!

Brittle beauty,

treacherous, too, as you hang—

a suspended, frozen longing!

Perhaps you air to bridge the gap?

But please,

not freeze on freeze!

Could you not chose

drop

by icy drop

To lose that glacial form into warmth

Under the snow?