We wade
through pine shade,
skating puddles
crystalized by
night’s breath,
the forest floor
transformed
into mosaics
of ice and earth.
Every step
cracks and creaks,
no matter how lightly
we press the freeze.
Creak
Crack,
shattering glass.
Since our
cautious tread
is pointless,
we start stomping-
boisterous,
leaving paths
of fracture
in our wake-
unflinching
in our gaits.
pm poetry 