It waits,

Being warmed by the heat

That crept into the house.

Patience. . .

The ice inside shrinks,

A little at a time,

Each time I look away.

The hours wears-on;

The ice is gone,

And I didn’t see it go.

How’d it sneak off?

I was here watching.

To see that the glass

Has nothing

Left inside.

My thirst

Calls out

For vegetation

Diluted in a pitcher of water,