Like drops of liquid platinum, that slick
against my face is morning winter rain.
Transparent beads of mercury as quick
as silver Hermes walks me to the train.
Unusual is how I feel today.
Atypical has passed near half a week.
And still I dash habitual away
as if it were a raindrop on my cheek.
The water drives and drips and penetrates
as gently inexorable as time.
My resolution grows and concentrates
as surely as a river, till a prime
directive gathers up velocity
and finds a passage for its energy.