The Betrayal
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A desert monsoon shifting from out of to into focus.
A drop of rain, sufficiently weighted, dislodging from its cloud, falling through the busy sky and landing in a new formed puddle on the roof of an old dusty bakery.
The earth of a hill, wetted, pushing up against a stone piled retention wall like a 9 month stomach.
The new heat of the sun warming a discarded pair of sandals, weeks unused.
The ringing of a bell, struck at the peak of a mountain, mixing with the soft sound of the valley’s brook.
The drying ink of a sheaf of paper found in the secluded home of a man apart.
The coinsnap of a counter at the port of a heaping city.
The breath of a dog before it realizes it is lost.
The lit candle of a ship at sea.
The centuries that pass through a dry cave.
The crew held breath of a red bird omen at a belching volcano.
The rough hand stroke of the velvet cloak, Luck.
The footprint sand of progress on the sleeping beach which is stirred by turtles and gulls.
The creak and sway of a boat under pillowed sails as it waits for its soul to return.
