Ice
Ice glistens on trees, in sun.
Winter slick on my tires spun.
Cubes in my glass winter cold.
Diamonds are ice, with a gold
Ring to enclose. Ice age froze
Our Mother Earth, then rebirth.
Ice sickles are beautiful too.
Water on grasses, morning dew.
Hot sun melts the ice, around.
Then there's none to be found.
Copyright © June Ellen Smith | Year Posted 2010
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