June 29 by The Running Son
I know what would happen
if I grew cumulus large,
billowing across the sky
until you chilled, holding still,
hiding in shadows, and having second thoughts
about heart travel;
I would roll,
and every drop of moisture I have or hold
would unload, tidal.
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.