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.