thirst
isn't easy being the strong one;
sailing the others along rivers, to
ocean currents, under depths
of all the earth; to let them
fly jet streams above clouds,
beneath sun and moon; isn't
easy listening to memory in
voices on long long afternoons,
begging earth one more day.
a windmill knows the water is
deep and waiting to quench:
the cedar elm is thirsty.
Photo/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker
