The Librarians watched over the cracking ice and shushed and frowned at the unruly noise​ of a winter stagnation.​ They tug​g​​ed​ sweaters on while pince-nez slipped to their laps​ ​and hands fluttered up to​ ​push stray hairs behind ears numbed by Dewey decimals.
They thought to bring some order to the thaw, so they pulled out a worn blue book with stars on the cover and began to whisper poems into the ice​. And slowly their voices​ puffed​​​ calming​,​ cool​, ​sintering words of iambic pentameter​- that ushered the dodgy ice to Spring.