As predicted the monsoon season is here at last. Last night it rained, life giving liquid washed over the desert.
Sunday Whirl Wordle
World galloping
Fluttered buzz
Logic instinct
Poem river
Resist whim
Though twisted
The Words are Waiting
Floating down the river
Twisted in the debris
The words are waiting
To become the poem
The buzz made by the words
Bumping together
Like the soft hum of a lone bee
Though the meaning
Is unclear — twisted
And wrung out to dry
Crackles in the wind
The world waits
The words flutter down
Upon the page
There is no logic
It is the instinct
For survival
Hug the body
With my knees
Galloping
Across the plane
There is no resistance
In the wind
The words are waiting
To become the poem
Sunday Scribbling prompt The Woods
The Woods
All is dry
Thirst for water
Sun shines bright
Tinder box
Waiting to explode
No, you may not go there
No one is allowed
Waiting for the promised water
All is dry
The relentless sun
Continues to shine
Tinder box
Like the beating heart within
Waiting to explode
No one is allowed
In the woods
annellannell 