Sense Sonnet - Tickler

Drop

Within the cold and numbing womb
Is formed this one as hard as stone.
The freezing forces bring to bloom -
To birth, this one of nature's own.
This one awaits with countless more,
Till beckoned by an icy blast.
Where this one had not gone before -
To destiny, this one is cast.
Chilled white, this one is now set free,
To travel through the changes that
Will warm this one to what will be,
When it is this one's time to splat.

"Marge - we should hurry up a bit,"
"'Cause I just felt a raindrop hit."