A feather will drift but hard as is, you cannot catch a migrating swift. A tap will drip, a slow death rising from an evaporating pool, a cloud will steal what the sun will lift. Life will wilt and seeds will sprout, earth will provide what deity choked on drought. Promise will hibernate and people will pray, roots will remember and hope will stay, next seasons gorged seeds on which swifts will prey.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
A feather will drift but hard as is, you cannot catch a migrating swift. A tap will drip, a slow death rising from an evaporating pool, a cloud will steal what the sun will lift. Life will wilt and seeds will sprout, earth will provide what deity choked on drought. Promise will hibernate and people will pray, roots will remember and hope will stay, next seasons gorged seeds on which swifts will prey.
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