1. Held The sky adheres to the horizon, glued by the pale orange of early spring, anchored by trees longing to bud but still afraid of frost’s catch. In this way, the world holds together, hitched to the past while leaning toward an incoherent future, the line balancing the rising sun our one certain thing 2. Both -And I live in fear of ice, those slippery sheets on sidewalk and road, sometimes visible, often not. And yet, I love crystals in the trees, catching light, forming their fractalled selves, always fragile, always unique. So we fear and love the same things. So we find our claws and wings.