Testing the soul's mettle, br the frost heaves br holes in the roads br to the heart, br the glass forest br raises up its branches br to praise all things br that catch the light br then melt. br The forest floor is white, br but here & there a boulder rises br with its glacial arrogance br & brooks that bubble br under the sheets of ice br remind us that the tundra of the soul br will soften br just a little br towards the spring.