It was a slow, massive roar. A dense wall-of-sound that couldn't possibly be made by one person, no matter how many microphones were hooked up to how many speakers. A scratchy, grainy blend of ... [+]
The surrounding air stirs
cool
With a coming storm
but
The plumeria flower still perches
unknown
To the world
she waits
For the heavens
to break above
To drown
in the water
Of the world
she waits
Every day
on the strong arm of the adjoining tree
And breathes life through the roots
with a hunger
To drink the juice of the dirt
to see what it is made of
So much solid, more than her feathery petals
but she has learned to wait
To wait out the dry bones of the earth
out the coming storm
For water will come
reprieve will come in shoes
Down the spiral stairwell of air, and land
on her face, sun-kissed
Waiting
dreaming for reprieve.
cool
With a coming storm
but
The plumeria flower still perches
unknown
To the world
she waits
For the heavens
to break above
To drown
in the water
Of the world
she waits
Every day
on the strong arm of the adjoining tree
And breathes life through the roots
with a hunger
To drink the juice of the dirt
to see what it is made of
So much solid, more than her feathery petals
but she has learned to wait
To wait out the dry bones of the earth
out the coming storm
For water will come
reprieve will come in shoes
Down the spiral stairwell of air, and land
on her face, sun-kissed
Waiting
dreaming for reprieve.