The Water Cycle

These waters
smooth as glass
remain calm,
at times stagnant.
Or, in these hours
they may recede,
even be absorbed
into the clay bottom
that once held fast
but also gives way.
Or earth and sky
battle to reclaim
these collections
of tears shed
in despair, disdain
but mostly in fear
of unknown pains
held on far tighter
than necessary.
Until their weight,
overwhelming is
finally unleashed
inappropriately
in fashion, but
with promise
of growth, change
forward motion.

Evening’s Swing

Sun sets as sky falls.
Dew squirms through burning clouds.
Breath drips softly in breezy streams.
The clasp of cold against warm skin.
Eager toes anticipate the chill
stretch down and ripple the glass,
shudder at the touch
and are quickly withdrawn.
Playful heart meets a second thought.
A swaying giant holds intimidation.
Small fists clinch this knotted rope tightly.
A fan equals with delight as the leap is taken.
The grip loosens and a splash wakens night,
paralyzing chills rush through the small body,
thrusting lungs search frantically for air.
Once surfaced, pain sinks in,
yet, the task is successfully completed.
This bragging soul, dripping wet,
tames the rope with one hand.
Smiles so wide with eyes so bright,
“Your turn!”