Flutter Like Angels Channelling Their Solace

Let the trees wear autumn gold tiaras let these snowflake whispers of mid-winter flutter like angels channelling their solace let fissures open up an elixir let us be, salted, hung, dried, smoked, and cured let these magical powers intervene puncture my heart, locked, immured let me be redeemed, find my snow queen live life amidst a never-changing scene let it be frozen white like quartz in stone sculptor. Carve your immortal figurine anklebones locked together, never windblown like marble ice melting going nowhere liquid fluid …yet—still, as a polestar.