Words lie like ice on sheets of snow
until a thought strikes with stylus newly whet
cutting quick as hot liquid can flow
through a web. Words, as needles, sew
with embroidered filigree, delicate
letters on lines of paper snow
a frozen page, crunching under toe.
At first glance, the starched sheets upset
melting tears over lies and uninspired flow.
Our hands hold pens when thoughts bestow
ideas' sweet clarity, but in blizzards must let
words pile over lined paper snow
fences stretched through fallow fields strain low
until spring's abundance washes clean the wire net.
But icy drafts still rattle vision's thin window
sketching the pane with slow
intricate drifts of frost, crystallized and set.
Thoughts freeze as ice against the paper snow
left for a blinding thaw to set in flow.