frost on the windshield

imagine me wandering
through purple frost, deep velvet cold,
dragging my feet in shadowy ice
(the kind that is like a cloudless night),
and frozen to the melting ground like a
statue, tree, autumn leaf.

and the quiet is absolute,
darker than blue,
a satin night with
not even a cricket lingering
not even a light but the stars above
and the ice below.

imagine the lake frozen over
melting all at once into steam,
purple screams as it crackles away
to unveil what remains.

i've heard this call before.
only the night was less dark
and the nails were less hard,
the ice was softer
and the crickets stayed to keep me company.