Break-up of the ice on the Seine, near Bennecourt, Claude Monet (1893)
Ice, the Time Capsule, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Winter’s chill has made the river e’er still,
The lives just prior are now locked inside.
Imprisoned is the wheel of the grist mill.
Waters no longer able to confide.
Many struggle not knowing what to do,
Times pull them forward in uncertain sway.
Some by fear are in want to start anew,
Others already made their getaway.
Starting to be warmed the old ice breaks free,
Tries to flow away as fast as could be.
Ever eager to be downed in the sea,
So ugly sins held others may not see.
For all sins that arose in the spring mist,
It is best their forgiveness to enlist.