at the altar of waiting

clouds of grey 

and indigo

gather

across the sun,

eyes dart

over cornered angles

of a protracted sky,

trees thirst 

with their necks arched,

dancing already, 

to a song

they want to hear,

the dark dirt 

arranges her pleats,

readying herself

for sweet communion,

tired hands 

wriggle and clench

their fingers in hope,

while I sit on the edge 

of worlds, and watch -

an invisible dewdrop,

serenading the clouds,

with her rain,

at the altar of waiting.