Cold Hot Spring
floodlights cast an artificial sun on slopes
voices of night skiers hang crystalline on still air
steam rises all around me
white fire on water
shrouding the hot spring
snowflakes ghost across aureoles atop black lampposts
then are swallowed by the night
or flutter down to the pool to instantly dissolve
fragile petals on kamikaze missions
I lean back
face swaddled in the Hokkaido winter air
neck deep in scalding water
in a schizophrenic embrace by nature
watching the snow drift
nature can be hot and cold
just like the way we treat it
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