Running Still

The days are growing darker and snow has found its place
in my back yard.
My eyes run along the window pane to find the shapes the ice has sculpted
 in the glass.
I ask myself the meaning of this random wandering, this meandering of my head,
 and fill the spaces with rice cakes, dreams of landscapes
around me.
For better or worse? Am I here when I wake up or still in a dream?
The former, it seems, but why does it feel so much less real when I rest my head and lie awake
from the cold?
 My feet on ice as I glide to school in the pool of these imaginations.
Thankfully, the smiles keep me sane while my emotions run wild,
 and I stand still.