The soothing lullaby of raindrops is beautiful
nature's way of telling you to chill out
and drift off into dreamland...

But when you're trying to type out a daily poem
and all your eyes want to do is droop
because of the white noise provided by the outside world-
it's obnoxious.

How do you resist the urge to sleep
after a day of pounding the pavement and breaking your brain,
when the very weather is against you?

If you know the answer,
let me know.
​I'm still working that one out.

I'm sitting here
watching as the darkness slowly lightens,
the horizon glowing softly
with the rising sun.

It's another day.
A collection of thousands more moments
to explore and savor.

I can't help but wonder,
what today will bring.

Watch the water pool
how the current pulls and plies at the air above it.
It's always had its own rhythm
it's own language.
Always finds new ways to look beautiful.

Whether it be hidden amongst the sands
trapped beneath layers of ice
or even in a glass.
It shimmers like liquid crystal
carrying the colors of its own world with it
and the lives of countless creatures.

You don't seem to see its importance.
Why our very lives depend upon it.
Maybe...
​you just need a more thorough introduction.

The day was a tidal wave of sounds
crowds rushing past without a space
for silence or even breath.
Now you soak in quiet.
A cool cloth over
a feverish
blighted day.
Darkness
​hushed.

Eternity flipped
within a water droplet
shattered on impact.

The trees are our guardians
our protectors against thirst and famine.
Within their branches are our homes
our fields and families.

​We never have to worry about fresh water here.
The trees collect the rain for us.
Their branches reach out like fingers
attached to palms of leaves,
and the drops drip down the ridged bark
to collect amidst the roots in streams.

We never have to worry about crops here.
The trees are heavy laden
with luscious fruit
and creatures to hunt.
Here, we never go to sleep
with an empty belly.

Where else would we want to stay
other than within the steady embrace
of the trees?

Another day done.
The nights are falling faster
the darkness growing.

Eternal
sunrise marks
a new day.

The sky shines
brilliantly
above you.

But don't you
miss your friend
the pale moon?

Dark clouds are crawling closer
carrying a raging wind and a river of fallen leaves.

Will it be a true monsoon?
With sheets of rain pooling underfoot
thunder shattering a once clear sky
and streaks of lightning flashing?

One can only hope.
Because the earth is looking skyward.
Parched lips open and begging for moisture
flash flood or drizzle.
It's caked in the dust of a long hot summer
and has been dreaming of storms for ages.

The sound of dry leaves blowing
like rushing water,
a tease of future relief?
For is it a promise?
Not in a desert.

No, lone patch of blue sky
do not show your face here!
Your threat of clear weather
reminds us too strongly
of the season we're leaving behind.
Flee back behind the clouds
and let us have this storm!

Yes! The first drops are falling.
Nearly silent drumbeats
that turn to raucous laughter
as the sky finally opens
and the earth sings.

You'd be surprised by what I hear
sitting amidst the branches.

What whispers the wind carries
the hushed moans of leaves
the groan of roots below.

​But also what waits us in the stillness
when every other moment dies
and time clutches your beating heart
to halt the disturbance of your breath
to preserve the sanctity
of an infinite calm.