We are of the same substance
The ice and I, gliding on the ebb and flow
Of river whim, just far enough out of the reach
Of the water’s fall to keep our integrity.
Back against the wall,
We are a perfect perch for wafting leaves,
With indolent fish that cruise beneath our skin.
We freeze and fracture, melt and drift, she and I,
Pushing the boundaries with our rough edges.
And we change the course of rivers,
Shifting the sands ever so slightly,
With the curling of our toes.
© M. G. Iannucci 2016