Words hammering upon steel hoods,
Disappearing as fast as it appears,
Partially hollow yet oh-so full.

A good company of souls,
Filling an empty bowl,
Their stories and discussions filling it in a steady warm flow,
Filling it to the brim,
Overflowing,
A great quenching for my dehydrated trim.

Where can we go?
In this summer rain laden land,
What shall we see?
Untold relics of a forgotten state,
That ended in a flame wreathed wreck.
What can we hear?
The passing winds that are whisper-gentle.