The ice cracks and winter lifts its veil
with a swift flick of the wrist
and a giant game of Tetris reveals
Nature’s sacred geometry
Led dispersed, disarmed, clinks in a glass
made of storms and the things no one wants
while they are frozen
in time, powerless, preserved
as stagnant as they were
It smothers the flame
when change is what we need to burst
and the rippling motion unseen, unheard, is deafening
to its core.
So crack, cleave, secede
break into the countries you were meant to be
and float
while I wring out my winter clothes.
Joc Cousteau 
Jos! Too good.
You’ve always been my biggest poetry fan, Jules. Thanks!
I like the last stanza the best. Especially the closing lines: “and float / while I wring out my winter clothes”. The staggering lengths gives it a “drop” and great rhythm, while the slant rhyme add emphasis without being overdramatic. Instead it seems to capture a feeling or moment rather than to force one.
Khalib, you nailed it. It’s exactly this sensation I was hoping to capture. It’s that hold-your-breath-anticipating feeling that happens with the changing of the seasons. Thanks for reading. 🙂