Sky, smudged with charcoal and chalk,

Heart swollen with sighs,

With hard-to-keep secrets and 

Bad intentions. Eyes,

Overgrown with weeds. 

Prone alone in the tall grass.

Weary of the scratchy feet of insects,

Of the humorless buzz of flies. 

Splashes of sunlight breaking through 

Beech tree leaf breach. 

The heat drains him 

Of everything vital inside. 

A yawn blossoms into a quiet laugh

Then withers into too serious nothingness. 

Once the rain starts, 

Once it begins in earnest, 

Everything will settle into the thin,

Thirsty footprints of a clock,

Then dissipate like fog.