The Failure of Ice
February ice on the forsythia.
Hard and cold. Murderous. Bitter.
And yet ultimately a failure
against the inevitability of Spring.
So cover me with cold. Nature knows
life and color always emerge.
Always.
About this poem
We had an ice storm last week that covered everything with ice.
But look closely! the buds still live. The story of life. The buds still live.
Tom
