Frosty morning thoughts

by Jim Miller

Ice ferns the kitchen window
delicately,
my breath caught in a web,
made visible.
I clean my teeth, spit, make tea
and think if ideas had dimensions
they would be this thick,
this delicate, a skin on glass,
as if God had a brainwave -
Uh-uh, so they think they’re clever,
I give them sand,
they come up with glass.
Let’s see what they make of this.
Ice ferns -
one of the small things
like an owl-voice trembling in the night
that tell you this is the world
before they disappear.