These are songs we dare speak
Only to ourselves
While we wait
Patiently
Through the thick stagnation
We encounter somewhere
Between summer and fall
When the wind falls away,
And the sun is all that is left.
.
This time of smoke
And old valleys
Sitting low, in their once easy chairs
Of coastal ranges gone tight
And creaking
Under their own thirsting landscapes.
.
You can just about hear the memories:
Water-worn tales amidst the dust and rounded gravels,
Once verdant glee,
All gone brittle,
In this time of waiting.
Shaken Rain 