Rain. That is a start I say.

Inevitability. Water and gravity.

Vigorous dances of mud and blood.

Emptying sky to sea via life.

Richness of peat stained foam.

Dance, oh that dance..

A thousand million words it paints

Repeating its life giving song:

Tsish! Swish! Delish.

Drink deep deer and man ere the rain runs dry. 

Seed.

That was a seed. 

Cast into the breeze of the moment. 

Some things might have nurtured it. 

But it withered

Beneath the dry hard light of the dissector's table.

It lost its potency. 

Poetry by keyboard?
Paper and pen. Or pencil perhaps.
It just happened more that way.
Little scraps-tucked in a pocket.

Best forgotten? Maybe.
Like the memory jolt that birthed them.
Yes. Indeed. There it is again.
Actions fed by yesterdays.
Yesterday's what? Death.

Yet now the key click?
The now moment is the live one
Invaded by a dead past.
Let it rest. {enter}