Silver Slither

I relax and stare into the fountain,
Slowly submerging my quivering hand into the rushing, bubbling
water.
I feel cold, weathered granite,
It's magnificently complex contours
Rubbing at my chapped
And dry skin.

As I massage the underwater freeze,
I build up a rude
And unflattering sketch in my mind's eye.
I move on around the underwater object
To uncover more;
A rider here,
A falcon there,
But these are not self-explanatory
So I delve further
Following the freeze
That is quite unseen from beneath the white-horse cascades.

But suddenly I sense heat
And from the corner of my eye, A red spark of pollution ripples,
My mind races:
I see the fountain throwing out burning acid,
Molten iron and lava
Instead of this life-replenishing water;
I see the fountain melting
And the life source seeping away
Until all that is left is a burned-out shell that I climb inside and
remember what used to be there.
So I quickly remove my hand,
Although a burning for knowledge of the freeze sways my
concience,
And remember that I should wait as the red receedes,
Wait contently,
For time will tell of things past.
For time will tell of things to come.