second poem

Individual

I crawled through the forest
that piled high into the sky,
searching for that scream,
lost somewhere in the birds,
when out of nowhere,
tattered water flashed
across the leaves.

The drops held music,
stressed and blissful
and then in the breeze,
a stem fell upon my face,
frozen and warm.

It turned my fingers
into cooling glass,
made me transparent and
morphed me into ice.

A scream rose up the stairs
and forced its way out of my
mouth, a piercing shrill
running through the valley.

And then there were others,
crowds of animals with me,
singing my song,
allowing my voice to be heard.