Ice Tree

Frozen light silvers on black lines,
Yes, this ice is on fire!
Steam smokes the tree’s air,
Saying, “Here!” A distant sun burns time.

The satsangh bell rings anew.
First, hear it unto silence return.
If, for the eternal you yearn,
Ice on fire is one view.

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Written for Harsha, on the inauguration of his Satsangh list, recalling
with great joy his words: “The ice melts when it is time.”

Gloria Lee 1/3/99