Circular
Thursday, February 15, 2007
On our deck, there hangs some ice.
A window ledge, it clings to life.
As it warms, its body shrinks.
Melting away, it seldom thinks.
About a time, when it was young.
From upper ledges it had hung.
Instead it stands, and sheds its skin.
It knows its role, its next of kin.
A pool of water, from it forms.
From its tears, new life is born.
In minutes time, the ice is gone.
In different form, but not for long.
The pool of water flies away.
Evaporation has its way.
It rises up, and fill the clouds.
A saturated sky, unfurls its shroud.
It snows for days, the ice returns.
The circle of life, in watered down terms.
posted by Chris Teso @ 1:38 PM,
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