A pane of glass seemed to be floating upon
the pool surface,
so smooth and ripple-less that
it should have been human forged,
Planed by a master,
Rather than petrified by the night.
But it was perfectly fashioned from
the hush of the air,
cold, quiet and still as granite,
leaving behind it a token,
flawless in execution,
a shimmering rink for fairy skates,
Or a pane to replace the broken window of a
Winter palace.
Here was the coldest of cold candy
to crack chattering teeth.
A satisfactory snap greeted my
curious finger.
The obese air bubbles beneath bumbled
to the surface
and pharted their escape.
The ice was broken,
I laughed and glided on.
