a thousand days on hot sand
and on the thousandth night
comes rain.
he cups his hands to
catch the water.
the clouds above him part
against a black sky
and the stars peer up at him,
reflected
from the water's shimmering surface,
and see their own reflection
in his eyes, looking back.
...
the water slips through his hands
and disappears into the sand and
on that spot he sleeps, deeply.
morning comes in its own sweet time:
rich and rested,
silent and perfect,
every color,
every everything.
...
late morning:
water rises from the sand
in clear round pearls
pulled towards the magnet of the sun
hanging in the center of a dark blue sky.
in a slowly building rhythm:
love, reverance, acceptance, love
the storm is now thundering!
rain is streaming heavily
from the earth to the sky.
and the stars?
now hiding behind the bright curtain of daytime,
they smile down
delighted.
