by Josh Stone
In jagged wood, rivers run tentacle arms
down meadows made in times past
remnants of Ice Giants creeping into virgin valleys,
carving canyons and cliffs and all of this
done in the silent eyes of the animals who for
generations roam mellow meadows, grazing
on tip-toe tulips by streams singing their
pitter-patter songs in rainbow spray.
Rise and fall, thrive and decay, born again
under Immortal Ice Eyes, wise, Glaciers watch frigid, fragile
as our meager existence passes in the blink of their Ice Beast Eye.
While their Cold Feet may tread upon the firmly rooted trees with ease,
the Glaciers cry with silent power,
their blue tears well up into flash floods
as we eat away at them
The glaciers speak slowly
To listen takes a lifetime
To understand takes a history
Maybe we will stop the undoing that we’ve done
Or perhaps they will die as they were born
In silent blue.