three thirty sunday
the pressure cooker explodes
down comes cooling rain

after soaking rain
even the fine haired roots
believe in the sun

on dry season nights
stars twinkle cheeky and bright
blanket with me now

on the full moons pulses
rides the howling breath
of the lonely lonley dog

after the exploding cord
even the electrician
is nervous

on dry season mornings
the bats and roosters
announce first light clearly

the dry season nights
you can hear ants footsteps
near the sleeping dog

cicada shells feet
cling desperately to the tree
in wet season rains

5:30PM
work is done
i lift my head
glowing pink red sky

i for you would sing
songs of love in raindrop shapes
through october nights

she rides like the wind
spinning spinning faster on
poised like a sleeve bird