We hang our dreams
in skies of serenity
streaming our threads like webs
tying together the end
hung on thistle sharp
trying to catch butterflies
in the light of day.
How we long to capture the beauty
of lightless flight moving
with paper tissue wings
speckled and unique
to each species.
Cicadas hum fills the air
drowning out the silence longed for
crescendo to the highest realm
as rain comes
perhaps it is then that they dance.
Cloud of moisture lingers
skin damp and hair drips quietly, unnoticed
till falling like a tear
touching the third eye
we let it be
feeling sensation of the color
surrounding us in buttered blues
hues of evening upon us
we rock and breathe