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POEM: icicle

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icicle

At first, one drop freezes, so small
you wouldn’t notice it. Then
another drop attaches itself to
the first, freezes. Over time,
slowly as regret, the icicle
forms, its weight pulling
the branch toward the
cold ground.
Eventually
the only
question
is which
will break
first,
branch
or
ice.

Published in Audio Poems My poems Poetry

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