ice

I'm certain
you're not
the only one
to hear the crinkle of broken ice
underfoot, after a night freeze,
like laughter through a window
or the tug of tumbling stones
broken over and over
by incoming waves.

Have you ever stared at sepals
pursed tighter than a scowl
patiently waiting past
setting and rising suns
certain they'll open
more sure than the sweet tang of ice cream
that your reward
is just
moments, a minute, just a minute

then the sound
maybe only your imagination
and you glance away
but in that instant you weren't attentive
then
that's when

the clink and crash of ice underfoot
sounds like a broken promise.