I had to go back to take a picture.
And then I had to write this Monorhyme...a poem in which all the lines have the same end rhyme.
We quietly dripped through the night
As long we grew and held on tight,
To mimic cavern's stalactite,
And gain immense reverso height.
Once waking, you beheld your plight
Behind our bars of icy white,
And seeing this, forsook the fight,
Submitting to our gripping bite.
Imprisoned in the dark of night
For no good reason but for spite
(Or maybe just because we might)!
You must remain till sun grows bright
And we are feeling more contrite
Then we will melt, allowing flight,
And you can once again feel light;
And all the world will seem just right
As rain, with butterflies and kite
Instead of snow and icy blight.
But don't forget next year's invite,
'Cus your dismay is our delight.
©Donna JT Smith, 2015
Here's my husband braving the frigid temps and the hip deep snow to remove our icicle imprisonment. Good thing he had snowshoes! He tried it without, but you can't get anywhere when you sink to your belt. BTW, that bit of shrubbery you see poking up is a part of our 5 foot high beach rose bush at the front of our house...there's a lot more where that came from. You wouldn't want to just try to wade through three feet of thorns hidden beneath the snow!
It's a Slice of Life Tuesday, so go see what's happening in others' lives and maybe look at some Slicer Swag!
|Icicles on the side of our house - the corner ones are only a couple of inches off the snow - reaching from ceiling height to interior floor - 8 feet long.|