I saw them frozen on the trail: Villanelle

The ice has held us far too long.
We are as mute as it is thick:
We are too cold, too cold for song.

Observer those limbs which once were strong!
Now tattered muscle on bent sticks
The ice has held us far too long.

There are no words, no wrights or wrongs
To save us from the blizzard's pricks;
We are too cold, too cold for song.

We have no breath with which to long
Or moan through some strange wind-magic.
The ice has held us far too long.

We once had mouths--those now are gone
To frost of our own artifice.
We are too cold, too cold for song.

If you see us--(think! frozen in throngs
Of ignorance) remember this,
The ice that holds us for too long.
We are too cold, too cold for song.


(HOLY CRAP.)

I just wrote a form a day, (nearly) every day.

More thinking about that later.