Sublimation. Ice melting. Frozen shapes thawing out, changing form, dripping back to the ground.
To the ground, back through the soil, taken in and given home by dormant seeds.
Sleeping seeds slowly awake, begin to roll out their unique instructions, setting out paths for growth, telling what was once ice just how to unfold.
Life begins to form. Life pushes upwards, pulls in the things that surround it, forms strength, pushes upwards further still.
Sprouts reach, exasperating, and stretch for the surface! Shape by shape, piece by piece, a whole begins to form, under warmth from above.
Slowly, just as it came, warmth leaves. But there is no retreat. No bridge to go back on, no seed left to unravel into. Life can’t be packed back up into a neat set of instructions.
No choice but to weather what comes. In the middle of it, in the dead of it all, off of a single crooked arm, an icicle begins to take shape.