Thunder without lightning
he really doesn’t care nor
hot wind stirs columns of dust
does she ever grow so tired
but no quenching rain comes
of his sins that she says enough
later a tea-stained sun will filter
and walks away because she is
through the canopy leaving
afraid that without him
in its wake amber pools of light
without all this it is possible that
shrinking on the forest floor
she may be nothing at all
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Pixabay
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