photo © Ken Pitcher

The Ice Sculptor

© Helen Bell 2006

Behind the crowds in the struggling street,
a man was carving curves of ice.
He was chiselling an angel,
from a melting diamond slice
Someone asked him why he did not
carve from wood or mould from clay
When he knew the ice would run to water,
before the end of day.

He said, "Wood may last but it can't reflect the sky
Clay may stay but it won't seduce the eye
Ice only shines for one dragonfly day
So let it have its wings before it melts away"

So what are you building then,
when at the close of every day
There's nothing left to show,
and all your angels have dripped away?
You can't sell puddles for a living,
if you want my advice
Go and carve yourself a future,
instead of shaping ice.

He said, "Yesterday the future was the skill I have today
Tomorrow may bring finer ice on which my hands can play"
Ice only shines, for one dragonfly day
So let it have its wings, before it melts away

The angel was finished now,
and it stood gleaming and complete
And it melted all the scowls and frowns
which went parading through the street
The sculptor said "We each of us
have got a block of ice to use
So leave yours blank until tomorrow
if that's what you choose."

He said "You've been wasting so much of your time
Standing there, questioning what I do with mine"
Ice only shines, for one dragonfly day
So let it have its wings, before it melts away