From my swing

Such a quiet evening, the end of a blazon day.
Infinite days.
Search the sky, waiting.
For Heaven to open it's doors
to depleted watersheds.

My lover departed before the rain.
Withered brown, the foliage.
Dry and cracked, the earth.

I wait in quiet calm.
Late evening no longer unbearable.
Cool breezes on my swing.
Engaging in pretend conversation in my lover's embrace.

Reds and golds replace brown-green.
Falling softly to the Earth like dandelion seeds.
Cool cool breezes chill me tonight.
While on my swing, I can pretend.

It does not rain.
How long can roots live without nectar?
My lover will return soon.
And so, will the rain.

Swing with me in the rain.

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