People who live in glass houses
shouldn't try to contact the people
who live behind curtains of ice,
who live at the freezing-point
of heavy, heavy water and feel
the crushing betrayal of these
delicate and terrible transparencies,
so suddenly scenic and photogenic
when the sun comes out at last,
the pretty pink sunbeams slanting
under the cloud cover and stunning
us all with multiple magnifications
of every tiny, terrifying detail.

And at night, our ears tell a
different story, something out of
the Dark Ages in the tinkling
fairy-music, as if we can hear
the hilarity of the ice-fairies
who are impertinently teasing
the outrageous giants of the air,
who are going BANG! CRASH! BANG!

But then the ice-fairies always
chime in with more of their mocking
laughter, impishly reminding us
that the music only seems to be
louder at night... then they titter
and skitter away like shards of
a broken mirror after a wicked face
has looked into it.

12/13/2008