For some reason
glinting in the late afternoon sun
the icicles on the gutters,
the edge of the flashings
in the bitter cold today
more sinister than beautiful
though elegant they are
Houses trimmed with daggers
clear fingers of ice
jabbing downward,
hanging heavily in the air
yearning to fall, pierce the skin
the snow cover below
fuse with the earth
once more
January 3, 2008
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