Sunrise tree

Icicles and Snow

You can eat snow, you know,
And breathe geometry
For days. It does not help
You keep your accounts straight,
But it improves your breath
And keeps your love symmetrical.

When the frost melts
From the window pane,
Where does all that algebra go?
In the earth beneath your window
The postulates of icicles
Lie waiting all summer.
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