Waiting

Waiting

Breathing in silence

Lungs are bellows

Frayed at the edges

Closing down all avenues

Of divergence

Narrowing the focus

Of disquiet

The grass is sobbing

It is incessant

Cicadas have

A counter refrain

Calling out the rain

For its persistence

A dampener

When ardour, so fragile

Is fleeting

The elements conspire

To turn gold

Into base metal

The alchemist's curse

The spell

Is always on the verge

Of breaking

As the illusion

Of life

Is gratified

By the ghost

Of faint praise

Whispered

On a salty breeze