Bleached by sun, arms touching,
Commiserate, await, relief for parched planks.
Trees sway, dip and bend in ancient dance,
Nature’s Code Talkers, communicating warning
To all who listen and see.
Gales simulate sea sounds,
As birds fly, squirrels scurry by,
And electricity pungently perfumes the aroused air.
The dance transforms into a passionate L’Apache.
Leaves flutter and tango into irresistible currents,
Twirling, swirling, colliding, hurling to ground.
Bowing to synchrony in strikes of light,
Storm language primal and cleansing,
Sibilant sounds of the womb.
While the chairs with wide open arms,
Sit, entertained, awaiting the rain.