We were treading on thin ice.
The sky looked grey,
raining that entire afternoon.

Yet it was winter,
a blessed time for seasonal silence:
pretty snowflakes so wet they were breaking
every pattern of nature.

Our chilled breaths wished for warmth,
that distant hand of the sun,
this park full of youthful knees.

Gliding skates scratching the surface,
with no worries, until we broke through.