Ray Sharp and Jennifer Fendya

Ray Sharp — Ice Storm



Jennifer Fendya



I’ve been dreaming of flying again,


of pushing clouds over a frozen lake,

down to where trees along the shoreline

stick out their bony ribs, into the cold air

and stand tall to be counted

among the chosen.


As I pass by, my fingers reach out

to graze their toppling crowns and

smooth their worried, furrowed brows.


What can I grant these hold-outs

from another era, a lost kingdom,

huddled on the banks, stripped bare

of their majesty? Crystalline coats

to see them through to green.


I’ve been dreaming of flying again.


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