Winter Poem

 Toying with the toilet 
   it runs, it runs.
After a long hiatus
The ice machine clatters again.
   Somewhere a smoke alarm 
has been chirping for weeks...
  Is it mine? Is it mine?
 It's raining ice balls 
that drum against the window panes.
As the temperature rises,
it turns into rain.
 The rain, the rain.

Sent from Molly