ice in poetry

that glacial blue
no tepid crystal
not transparent
not see-through
no turquoise pastels
there are vast depths
behind those sparkles
there are fathoms of hue
not all of them pleasant
but all of them true

azurene frozen oceans
stronger than mountains
nonetheless needing to crack
deserving to melt just a little
all that pressure and majesty
for some measure of relief
at least a little, as a treat
that they may flow and shine
occasionally allowed to rest
to sleep or meander in peace

the clouds before sunrise
droplets of water hang
periwinkle and steel
beckoning the return
of warmth and light
and those are her eyes