Being a poet, it seemed proper to
Fill it with words.
Feathery, floating words that rest on the tongue
Like frozen sherbert
And melt away like poetry
When inspiration fades.
I gathered up a thesaurus of winter
Compressed it into a world the size of my hand
And laughed aloud as I
Threw it into the sky.
A frozen firework, , it exploded over my head
And fell to earth as soft, white flakes... .