snow falls like a million past lives
cold incessant
the yellow fire hydrant
wonders "what am I doing here?
it decides to leave
the snow bound streets
march off to the smelter
"What am I doing here?
"What good am I?
Here in the midst of winter,
What is my purpose?
"To fight fires."
an answer
from the infinite past.
"Don't run away don't give up
Some day, some how,
somewhere
you will be needed,
just not right now."