I remember my first sip of ice

as I drifted wistfully through a world

of fine sleet and cold rain;

the sky always opened on Thursdays.

Tearing holes in the fabric of all that lay around me,

I wandered aimlessly (unlike a cloud)

with no Earth on which to deploy my heavy load.

Drink. Drink from the waters

that float overhead and swim in the deluge soon to come.

No eye contact, no stride, no nod; only water.

Water and cloud.

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