Now that it’s gone I miss the ice
that left crusts on the sidewalk like fingernail clippings,
coated my windshield with translucent stars
glass bonded to glass.

Every step that day was an exercise in caution
a lesson in mindfulness. Every twig and leaf
was edged with illumination glimpsed sideways
and I turned to find myself surrounded
by tiny rainbows, scattered bits of color
darting like hummingbirds among frozen flowers.

Now that it’s gone I miss the ice
and its miraculous prismatic silence
like living inside the eye of an angel.