the treads on my boots grip the ungrippable
like studs on snow tires they slice through
the frozen matter on the ground no match
crunch
i'm moving faster than i expected with all
the sleet cannot stay my feet in these boots
i'm bounding through drifts and slushy mess
splash
the persistent freezing rain begins to coat
my coat stiffens in the arctic temperatures
but inside i'm warm and dry impervious
crackle
in time i will become an ice sculpture
the ornament of a path less traveled
all to the unrelenting patter of icicles
chink
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