Ice on fire
I left my words in the ice,
a soft voice for the cold lake to sip
as it listens to the melting shoreline
amongst messages dropped by mountains.
Hard granite ridges shoot shotguns
of evening air into white covered peaks
I hear the sister snow flurries laughing
as they circle inside heavy old clouds.
The bloodshot eye of a vast tired sky
spreads red through its capillaries.
Its pink tongue laps across the lake
for a final drink of the day.
I stop breathing to hear the waters reply
I know the sisters are listening with me
But only the mountains boom their commands
and the nights eye begins to close.