Ice can be just as mesmerizing as a fire.
Watching icicles melt establishes within the jaded cockles of the heart a sense of the inevitable.
The ice holds its shape as long as the weather bears it.
Then a hushed warm air comes along and it starts to disintegrate.
The thinning of the ice is magically delicious to the senses. Listen carefully to the icy drips. Smell the change in the air. See and ponder the metamorphosis.
You want to squeeze the iced pieces between your fingers and caress its cold fragility.
Serenity. Grab it, put it in your pocket and taste its remnants at a later day.