(This is a companion to the previous poem.)
.
.
What are these icy blades
that pull words crisp
through dunes of snow,
that draw my heart
to shiver
in your sea?
Fly if you must
beyond this salty mood
(still frozen to my cheek)
and I will wait
for winter’s hands
to thaw.
.
(c) 1993, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(photo taken a few years ago)
Seasonings 
As kids…we use to love those icicles…the longer the better…love how you’ve used them as a metaphor in the poem.
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We don’t see icicles every winter here, so this was a photo op. 🙂 I love how they capture the light. Thank you, Charlie!
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I have a long history withe icicles. My winters always went suckling them like ice cream..Good Work!!!
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Attachment, attachment. If only we were able to let go. The challenge then of course becomes aloneness, emptiness. Yet beyond the ice a fresh spring awaits.And pethaps companions. Happy New Year, Betty.
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Nice Betty.
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