Winter Water


Each piece she places on the wind by hand.
A descent of ice on this winters dawn.
Dancing, twirling, finally finding land.
Each piece now resting in its silent song.
In the sunlight they take on a new form.
Sometimes it’s water, and sometimes it’s same.
Regardless of the plan to which they’re born,
Always it’s ice. And ice they shall remain.
At the end of the day, it’s what they are.
Their mother, Queen Cloud, waves goodbye before
Into the sky, fading away and far.
They’re now in winters hands, whom she adores.
Children here, before they’re sent to summer,
Later they’ll return on clouds of thunder.


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