One word progression, July 12, 2007,
Valyna and Helskel in attendance.
New heat of the late year, canvassed in languid running arbitration.
Afternoon without decision, the waiting, lingering gazes permeate the cold oncoming storm.
She senses something heavily pressing against her core.
The darkened sky unleashes at last.
A bird of the angered desert rests briefly upon her worried doorway.
She offers uncertain sympathy without guessing which soul he has taken.
Lightning disrupts their awkward parley, the thunder tears feathers with his departure.
Peering across, she drew in long reflections that calmed the existence she created.
Alone she dreamed of knowing laughter from hollow memories.
Droplets begin to smear her tears.
Silence dwelled until smiling,
She turned and realized,
Sadness is nothing to take to the bank, or for the birds, or whatever.