ice see you

ice is always audience looking up,

mesmerized by sky fixations.

gone are the migratories,

maybe flurries, 

as a slight change of venue,

waiting for wind-swept to happen,

yet too early for thaw to be a visitor.

winter feels like endless window shopping

on a glass sky display going by.

holding tight to disposition and position.

ice, longing for travel time to come.

need for melt-mingling to be flow.

willing to praise gravity for the travel plan,

yet getting to the ocean,

is like getting on a crowd bus,

where all the seats are already taken.

ice memories like these fade,

once the phrenetic flow is back in action.

don't mind the posing,

but if I could cramp right now.

it would appear as a crack.

I want to be back on the watery stage,

back in the flow.

I liked my life 

as a fluid broadway show . . .