Yearning For Something Wet

YEARNING FOR SOMETHING WET


thrice I came to you
bearing gifts of
precious oil and
good tidings:

sweet air and dusty feet

the mountains are
prisms of grass
turning pure
white light water
into rainbow
wine

lining the bottom
of every laughing
girgling stream

what were once
sun-tormented rocks
yearning
for something
wet

 

 

Home ~ Bio ~ Music ~ Schedule ~ Poetry ~ Talking Stick ~ Resources ~ Contact