The tart had been melted
before
it sat solid in the warmer
on the back of the stove
She put the tealight under
it,
and lit the small wick.
A pool of dark hot wax
formed
bubbled up, ooze in a puddle
in three-dimension, rising,
atop the surface of the
green solid
Slowly the house filled with
the smell of pine,
exuding the memory of the
woods
throughout the kitchen, the
house.
A wonder of physics,
of the order of things
when something solid
becomes a gas
filling the space
with the forest outdoors.
----
edited June 25, 2014
From Solid to Gas – v2
November 29, 2006 10:47
From Solid to Gas
All
of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004,
2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights
reserved. Contact me at Ray
Foss for usage. See all 30,700+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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