waiting

"We can't help being thirsty, moving toward the voice of water.
Milk drinkers draw close to the mother. Muslims, Christians, Jews, Buddhists,
Hindus, shamans, everyone hears the intelligent sound and moves with thirst to meet it."

- Jeladuddin Rumi (1207-1273)

I feel it in my spirit,

that crinkly, raspy,

need.

I am tired,

cranky,

exhausted.

I can't think,

just want to sleep some more,

too thirsty to start moving.

I lay nestled in my thirsty parched state,

amongst the green

thriving souls

and

I wait

for

the first drop of rain,

the tiny smidget of refreshment

that will

begin my own revival of sorts.

I think I drank my last

gulp

sometime ago.

my throat is

scratchy

like

sandpaper

and

my spirit...

well

let's hope a big ole blowin' wind

don't

come along

to

wisp me away into

some

unknown part of universe.

I move my crinkled up parts,

stretch out as much as I can without breaking,

so that

when

the

voice of the water speaks,

when it comes,

I'll be ready.

Waiting

don't know how long it will be

but will be sittin' right here

until

my next

gulp of refreshment arrives...

until then

I will lay

here

amongst

God's creation

and

wait....

I think I hear the rain a comin'...

waiting..............it's not much fun!