Useful once, to quench a child’s thirst,
now the life-giving liquid wrapped in plastic
lies forgotten, discarded under the driver’s seat
in a grave of Cheerios and lollipop wrappers.

Only in the hasty clean up before a long trip,
in the frenzied rush to gather garbage is this treasure
(re) discovered.

The crinkly plastic bearing the “NatureFresh”
or some other juxtaposition of profit and gift has
long since peeled away.
Days and nights of winter have left liquid solid.
Nothing moves in this bottle.

And yet, imprinted along the icy length,
proof of it’s journey.
Rolling, jostling, jarring.
Shaking, expanding, contracting.
Each air bubble a spark in the universe,
leaving a frozen trail.
Fireworks, or a flower,
caught suspended and displayed.
Beauty encased, destined for change.

Note: This poem is part of my Lenten discipline, in which I attempt to cultivate space and quiet in order to hear from God and respond with poetry. 

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