When Fire met Ice, it started as a slow dance.
Tentative fingers tracing collarbones,
bruises of smoke and singe;
scared to burn to freeze to ignite to extinguish -
A cold autumn’s eve lit by a frosty moon,
pastures gleaming in the evening dew.
A swift breeze sways the grass side to side,
like a sea of serpents in a trance with the moonlight
