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at the glacier’s terminus,
the cool cerulean ice
cedes to the summer sun
ages of frigid indifference
thaw, and the runoff
heralds a rapprochement
it’s a deliquescence of sorts,
a decomposition, a taking apart
of years of laborious arrangement
as each molecule of ice becomes water,
there is a yielding, and an unraveling
of the sordid bitterness of winters past
drops become trickle, and trickles
become roar, until a trill of arias conjoin
in a cascading watersong of assorted falls
and the only sound that fills the air
is this crescendo of water against rock,
this anthem of transformation and change
- The Fool