The poetic part of my brain-soul often gets inhibited by the medications I take to keep me mentally aloft. Every now and again enough pressure builds that words break through and when that happens I get really excited. So here is something that bubbled to the surface. I hope you enjoy.
The desert is a place of echoes.
Not enough life,
no soft spaces
to dampen and hold
what gets whispered
in the dark.
Dry, brittle ground
sends sound on its way
until its strength is spent.
Each breath rushes off
with nothing to impede
progress from ear to ear
to ear.
Even when the rain comes
it’s the thunder
that arrives first.
Tumbling over valley floors
that reverberate back
the sentiment that
all creatures in
parched places call
to the clouds.
I miss you.
Anika's Antics 