Volcano

Mid-winter’s day, I prepare
For more to wait for.
Two months in, ten away.
Another single day, I live.

Water in the reservoir
Earth on the ground.
Air in a clear container.
Fire in a dead man’s heart.

An explosion of ideas
Is a cure for life
And the single most
Important antithesis.

A great beginning
And a simple sparrow
With a tiny gray mouse
In its yellowed beak.

And an anticlimactic ending
In the hands of a child.
In the mid of the old.
In the middle of nothing.