y=e

We slip to sleep, an audience of ice-melt veins
dripping roof tip rhythms in narrow alley-ways;
let slip our dark embrace to face the window-sill
and of the chill's retreat ear-drink our fill.

Stripped of harsh solidity by the noon-warm sun,

liquidity's your nature: everlasting run

from ancient times. You'll ice again, old molecules

as ice you knew before me; frosty tool

of Nature! I gladly pledge my vast descendants

to your care, and to your keen-eared audience
of life-bound mules.

feb '10