falling blossoms
waiting for the rains
wishing for the storms
of light flashes drum rolls
demanding us to wake up
wake up already, from
days of grey filled sloth
wake up those limbs
let the sap stretch upwards
filling nipples promising more
promises to unfold
before our eyes
share their delicious scents
that ask,
be gentle
let me bloom
flutter in the breeze
bare fruit for you.
~ Steve Thomas