For this I borrow from Bob Frost's effervescent poem "In a Glass ..."
It seemed I was a mite of sediment/
That waited for the bottom to ferment/
So I could catch a bubble in ascent./
I rode up on one till the bubble burst,/
And when that one left me to sink back reversed/
I was no worse off than i was at first./
I'd catch another bubble if I waited./
The thing was to get now and then elated.