I've watched the formation of ice in the fall,
with winter it thickens, solidifies.
I've witnessed the movement of the
forces beneath the ice, change it,
alter, crack it, reform it.
I've walked through caves made of ice,
marveling at the crystals, the clearness
of the water that formed it.
I've been warmed by fires on the ice,
if the fire lasts long enough
the ice melts, warming the
ground beneath it,
readying it for the coming spring.
I've watched as the ice cracked,
popped, withdrew from the edges,
shrinking from the warmth of the sun.
I've watched as the ice sank unable
to sustain itself in the warmth.
The water glitters, glistens, ripples
moves always even under the ice,
waiting to be released.
Each year it is the same, times
may change but still the rhythm continues.