I watched as the Sun threw bolts of heat onto the dry Earth
turning whatever small fragments of moisture it had managed to hold
into splinters of energy that disappeared into the great unknown.
How like death I thought. What was once fertile and creative
now lay barren and empty.
I listened to the Earth. She was quiet. Her breath a soft rumble.
she was thirsty for the next cycle
yet unsure of what it would be
or even if change would come.
Her stillness is like mine or mine like hers.
How difficult it is to wait, to be in the seasons
in-between the known and the unknown.
