First glaciers slice smooth grooves in granite lined with wizen-faced ice - then long thin lakes left behind. Under the gaze of glacier-eyed winters, Wyoming men keep their faith. They roll a barrel out on a long white lake and bet on the day it will float free to touch shore. Glaciers once covered Illinois and this field where green corn stalks sway in summer. It's white now, with snow pressing into ice. Standing here I think the crystals won't melt for a thousand years, in which case nobody'd win on the day that I float free and touch.