(Ed note–We are pleased to present the site debut of A.J. Huffman, with five looks at the mysteries of icicles–The Eds.)

from Icicles this Anticipation

The point is: creation takes

more than seven days. A lifetime

of would-be Sundays disappear

one drip at a time. Liquid tears race

down suicidal slide. Will they beat

the wind, land on chilled cushion

of accumulated drift? Never

count out Southeasterlies,

their decimating gusts hold the most

aggressive drops in stasis till nearly invisible

dagger welcomes them to blade.

from Icicles this Ephemerality

Solid is circumstantial,

hanging in the four corners of any home.

External forces alternate retention,

dissolution. Air and sun

are keys, constant pressures

to be endured. Foundations

are fragile. Cracks

quickly turn into shattering falls.

from Icicles this Fragility

Metal may be monumental,

but its grip is tenuous

turmoil of balance. Temperatures

rise. Reactions hold

no depth. Eyes can see

through every attempted defiance.

Angry breath releases frigid finger.

All that is left is silence,

absence, the answer

to gravity’s call.

from Icicles this Reflection

Nature holds certain

affinities for symmetry, inherent

need for balance. Clouds

contain liquid, precipitate solids

that accumulate, generate heat, melt

back to liquid, fall

into the wind, freeze solid, form

a point. Everything disappears

inside itself. Eventually.

from Icicles this Refraction

Solid is sometimes temporary,

lacking visual

purpose, transparent.

Such reflective moments echo with potential.

The seemingly invisible see

the world with unshadowed eyes.

A.J. Huffman

(Image is of the poet)