Of the utmost pliable nature
I picture an enduring surface
the skin of a planet.

Between intolerable molten core
and absolute void where chaff may disappear
ouroborus; mobius; this surface
observes all and only the laws of Pi.
Wrapped around as on a bon-bon
its intricate designs kept clear and shiny
by all who feel entitled or obliged to care.

And here is water, somehow,
not annihilated within the underworld
nor lost to the heights of expanding sky.
It gathers and sits, bubbles, flows 
and observes all and only the laws of gravity.
If I had the word 'miracle' I would use it.

But more than this, with wonder and gratitude,
I picture long wandering streams 
-despite the dockland's titanic racket-
still cool over Pisces, and deep enough;
purity maintained for Ganymede's cup.