A Dream of Rain
I lie with my ear to the ground:
Below I can hear the whisperings,
The scratchings, the rustles,
Of insects with wings like scraps of lace,
Can hear the trees roots drinking in the rainwater,
And the snails slowly clicking
In a language all their own,
I can smell the wetness of the leaves
Nestled into small, moist hollows.
I open the doors and let the sounds & the smells
Lock themselves into the rafters of my mind
For a rainy day.
more by Lëaf Ednïwinga
photograph by Mike Kotsch