The hole is almost
Perfectly triangular,
A huge window in ice
That stands taller than
The city of concrete and glass.
And it’s all natural.
Or is it?

Smooth ledges strong enough
To take a lot of weight,
Never faltering
Never falling.
Is it real?

No prints in the snow,
No animal tracks or penguin
Slides though thousands
Pass through there,
Yet snow hasn’t fallen
For quite some months,
It still seems fresh and new.

Maybe it isn’t real,
Not natural at all.
To see such startling purity
Makes me wonder if Magic
Is real.


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