Now

Now

When did the water turn to steam?

Where did this drop of water
          meet that drop of water
          to become a lonely tear?

When did the puddle disappear
          into thin air, thick with
          dancing molecules, bouncing
          into each other faster and faster
          in the warming air, kissed
          by the rays of the sun?

Where did the salt separate from the water?

How did this dream begin?

And how did the rain know to turn to snow?
And when did it?  When did it slow to a floating flake?

And why did I not notice?  Why did I not
          know this was happening?  This
          is my question, asked now as
          I too slow my breath, pushing
          my thoughts gently away . . . .
           
                                      away . . . . .

                                      away . . . . .






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This poem is from "Bottle in the River" 
                     about a Poet's journey down a river, chasing a bottle
                     tossed by the fingertips of "that I am."
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Written within the parameters of the theory of "Multivalence"