Let's trace these shadows to the waiting passions in the night,
wide and awake, lit by lamps and a filling moon,
swollen and aching in that persevering tide,
shoving, pulsing, playing in the helpless heart,
lifted by a cresting wave, tossed by love.
Too much life,
(Remember those crunchy, thin-iced winter puddles with their frozen, yellowed leaves?)