Monday, February 22, 2010

In Which I Wonder At Wicked Water

Two hydrogen, one oxygen; that's all
A water molecule contains. It's just
So simple. In a cup, a pool, rainfall
It's strange enough, though still innocuous.
But should it freeze, there seems to be no end
To mayhem. People slip and cars may crash
That cross it. Then consider, too: the blend
Of alcohol and ice cubes brings on brash
And indecorous manners. But for me,
Why, water is most wicked when it hangs
As icicles from rooflines, menacing,
And looming o'er our heads in heavy gangs,
Assailants and cruel weapons both; they cling
But lightly to their perches, waiting for
A hapless soul's approach to the front door!


Again, sorry about the Captcha, but the spam comments are getting out of hand.