Juniper Miller

Fiction Editor


as does everyone else
in this frigid breeze,
the frost clings to warmth
among the grass blades,

and it’s funny how
it clings so tightly
to the ground’s heat
as if it didn’t bring the freeze in the first place.


hours into the endless night,
the grass feels itself
suffocating under the ice,

when the sun arrives
like a forgotten friend,
and melts the frost away;
though the grass knows
it will soon come again.

but for one sweet day
the grass is free
to sway in the wind
and dance as it pleases,

and forget that it was bound
by a cold captor,
so when it returns
the grass thinks

“maybe they’ve changed.”