“When I play with my cat, how do I know that she is not passing time with me rather than I with her?” – Montaigne

I promised concrete.

A Study in Hail

Cascading minutes I recall, like frozen rain,
Each drop descending paused in time. I peer inside
To start investigating motives lost and longing.
Each shiny memory assures refreshment
But lacks fulfillment. Glimmer with hope only
To melt upon asphalt, black and sleek and oily.
Yet each one stings; it bites my neck and arms. It marks
With icy burns, the trail of tears solidified
By wintry breath. Ungatherable, like crystal sand,
Painfully they hail down… so many, too many to count,
Abusing earth, exploiting my delicate heart.
These drops feel like your lips; unyielding and cold.

[Caption]