Life's liquid pouring over the edge
The hands of the water fall
thrust forth, grasping strings of air
Reciting nature's harp,
notes spilling out, falling...
only to reach a stream of musical rhapsody.
In elation's throw the parched, emaciated lips of the
canyon birds echo this song verbatim.
Their eyes so starved of breath
that with every blink dust rains down at their pronged extremities.
A chirping, hopping, flitting chorus commences.
Flapping wings ever so joyously,
they then swarm southward,
retreating after stealing a precious sip.
Taken also are the flourishing dives,
leaving behind the scratches of ever-expanding rings.
A sigh of utter relief is released by the mountains,
ascertaining that the jagged terrain it once held as epidermis
is now a pasture of lush growth.
The plant life's roots go deep.
Rigor-mortis grip is all they can survive on.
The oasis smiles at the pleasant chaos
it has caused.
It has become the existence factor.
As night encompasses the daylight,
the moonlight tickles the oasis.
Its waters crying out for merciful restraint.
The birds have all gone home,
locked their doors, and tossed the keys recklessly.
Deeming itself alone,
the oasis sulks in bitter contentment.
Nature has left a sweet reminder...
It is the one possessing the box of happiness.
"Goodnight, counseling moon.
Just remember, this oasis has a heart."