The hiss of the constant rain,
at last.
The patter of raindrops
against the glass.
Windows, tiny windows of clear water
shatter as they hit the ground.
The air becomes water
and the water, air.
I stand, I breathe
and the skies open.
Water washes away the withered spring;
rivers on the road
rivulets on the window
and the trees raise their branches
and give their thanks to the rain.
4am and the world is unmoving,
until I step outside.
The air is warm and still and
the terracotta tiles are cool beneath my feet
Quietude absolute.
A half-moon headlight casts my shadow
A scattering of stars against a black velvet backdrop
Mars; loud, red and angry
and the owls compete for who can hoot the loudest
and I, alone, breathe the morning
and I, alone, feel the morning
and I, alone, become the morning
and I, alone, am the morning.
My Words, My World 