by Robert Wooten
The icicles are warm and they hang from the house.
Dripping, they leave long narrow holes in the snow.
It snowed during yesterday and all through last night.
The children have already made angels in the snow.
They were already making angels in the snow yesterday
on the side of the hill.
Today, these are angelic
depressions. And the trees—not even the brown leaves move.
What is going to disturb this peace? If this is peace
something will disturb it. The icicles are dripping,
dripping, and the shingles are wet. The water leaves
a long line of narrow holes in the snow.