We Got Iced

When the Cold Front Came ❄️🔥

A cold front rode the spine of this nation,
a brittle hush over rooftops and fields,
frost lacing windows like winding silver threads,
America exhaling winter in long, sharp breaths.

But deeper than the chill upon the land,
a colder dread crept into the streets,
where winter boots met cracking ice,
and voices rose like flares against gray skies.

They said the frost was everywhere,
biting cheeks, tethering breath,
but some hearts froze in other ways —
beneath armored vests and mirrored shields.

In Minneapolis shadows stretched long and low,
two more names cut into the frozen earth,
citizens known, loved, and mourning light snuffed out
by those tasked to protect the borders of law.

And so the wind carried grief across squares and highways,
marchers hunched against storm and outrage,
words rising like steam from cracked lips:
justice, answer, mercy, reckoning.

In the howl of winter, the question hung —
whose freedom warms this place?
And whether winter’s breath was colder still
where power and fear met in masked ranks?

The frost glinted on protest signs,
and in that rime the nation paused —
freezing not from snow but from the weight
of loss that would not melt away.