dry grass thin stubble in late summer's heat
reflaring here and there to darker green
in mottled shade there's no one to be seen
a heavy silence rules upon the street
we crave completion seek the upward beat
of ravens' wings demand the vision keen
of tropic vultures we release our spleen
on hapless ears but then we must retreat
in each cool cave the music cannot fail
to guard against the horror of bright day
while keeping hearts in balance from the strain
of sensing that there's more to the true tale
as yet unheralded in what you say
but for the moment we must count the gain