She
is
frantic
water.

Daughter,
why do you sigh this way?
Impatiently
leaning left
arms crossed
weighting
your breath
as you reach for
your own hands
behind
your razored
shoulder blades.

Tell me that story
of the snowflakes
melting.
Tell me how,
in tall rubber boots
she danced in the puddles
of what once
was whole
and beautiful.

Tell me
that the ripples
she made
sent waves
to the other side of the world
so tremendous
that only the few
and brave
would dare to ride and then
they crashed on houses
and smothered schools!

Or
maybe,
she just muddied
the entryway
to her home
in small sleet drooling,
independent
steps.