I Am Water

I.
Cold to hot and then back again.
I am a faucet fickle in temperature and pressure.
The gentle push of the hand and it burns
but to pull it toward the center brings coldness once again.

II.
My face pressed agains the pitcher still.
I am water-- soon to be poured out and consumed.
Bubbles form on the inner surface of glass,
microscopic eggs of imaginary life un-lived.

III.
A burp--a bubble inflates curbside.
Aired up for a moment and then instantly exhaled,
Like the neck of a summertime frog,
singing and breathing and looking for new life before it expires.
The rain silently explodes in synchronized beauty as each drop dives into the next.
As I dive into both you and me before we too expire.