Snow

Silent
in the night air
But not so
under feet.

Icicles

Like frozen daggers
They hang
Dripping in their own blood

Icicles

Icicles. I knew they were there, but hadn't thought about them until Maria said something. And even then, I only glanced quickly to notice them again. But upon returning to my room after dinner, I stopped to appreciate them. I even snapped a picture. They are a beautiful thing, yet they are cold and potentially dangerous. Icy water drips like blood from the tip of a cruel dagger.