Frost Roses

Ice Roses Frost on windows? Not where I live now, but where I grew up, winter windows had thick layers of ice. And in mornings, before anyone got out of bed, I carved landscape and faces and saw my work fade slowly away, by noon I could see the landscape I had carved through clear windows, the mountain’s stream, frozen solid now, and trees; mother’s face also as she was busy in the kitchen baking bread. I do not miss the cold Nordic land I came from, but wish windows here too have frost roses, or be as blank as a new page I could write. “I love you on.”