In the midst of the ice a stream
is applauding the rocks
not for success' sake
but to meet the sun before sickles stake.

Gliding accross the stoney ledges
gleaming with less light
Drifting fast toward the star
but quicker into night.

Ripples passing under but enough warmth
trying with diligence to pass snow banks
Day by day more winter convert unto clear
to join it's ranks.

When winter comes anew frost be of cold
Returns refresh when winter's old.