ice crystals spread across the window pane, a fold and crease in the water, mirroring the angle of the molecule

roots creep, imperceptibly slow, across the sidewalk, following the nutrient-laced crevice in the concrete

my hand stretches through the veil of a dream, straining for something just out of reach, sliding through the filaments of an ancient cobweb

I’ve been here before, and each time I return, I find you, sometimes taller or younger or your eyes change colors, exchanging one skin for another, but always at heart, the spirit is you, the way you walk, the way you touch