Icicles hang on the roof, melting graciously into a clear, glittering mirror of sparkling water droplets; my lonely, reflected image blurring slightly at each splash of water.
Fresh footprints are laced neatly into the pure white landscape leading into a world of swirling white.
Evergreen trees dance silently in the bitter wind, drooping slightly under the weight of the glittering snow.
Beautifully cold. However geographically would an icicle melt if it is snowing?
ReplyDeleteI know what she means. Sometimes within an icicle you can see frozen rivulets. It is beautiful and glazed inside the ice.
ReplyDeleteIt is a really beautiful poem, Emmy!