This poem is an ancient Irish form called a rannaigheacht ghairid poem.
Freezing rain, muddy earth its sodden drain— bitter tears the winter sheds, liquid threads on window pane. It will pass. Touch the cold, unyielding glass— fingers splayed against the gloom, void of bloom and tender grass. In my mind, violet petals I can find, creeping low, like fragrant thieves— dream that leaves the frost behind.
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This poem is an ancient Irish form called a rannaigheacht ghairid poem.