Ice Storm

The birch branches bow down
bent by the weight of a 2 inch coating of ice.

As I walk through the canopy they create,
a white passageway to a stillborn world,

I wonder what it would take
to make me bend like that

to make me cry out in that blank space
a sound sharp enough to crack

a stiff back. For a moment
I envy those trees in their

frozen prostration. It has been so
long since I prayed to anyone.