Of Penguins and Polar Bears

The still betrays me, dancing across the pavement and obvious now to myself, watching as I am from the rough wooden tower that is guarded by bears and overlooks a crystal clear lake that you wouldn't think could survive this much pollution.  Yet again I've torn the leaves from a perfectly good tree, but if only they hadn't caught my eye with stars the size of my head then I could be smiling and having tea with penguins and polar bears, who have never shared a home yet unite in their frigid reception that does no good to my Birkenstocks and Lipton.  One day the aurora will sparkle again and there will be no hole in the ice through which to plunge, and maybe the music on the sheet will translate into something with meaning.  Meanwhile, I've nothing but the rain and a piano part that makes me wish I were in a bar, serenading me into yesterday's forever.