The subtle lightness of the teasing rain,
Upon ethereal haze of winter morns,
It's tentative vollies of chilling probes,
To which hot sparks are fright and yet sustain.

Maxing out the day,
It's brimming full of work,
A hearty glass to overflowing,
Reaching now the goal as set,
And now to bed.

I feel the limit of my breath,
It's cool then steam and broth in air,
And fire on my palms held near,
It's bubbles warm from engine revs,
Deep in my core they churn away,
And puff out steam and broth in air.