Verses in a dry land

Water is laughter, children running through an empty house, a phantom guitar that spills notes in cottonwood shade. A thread of music weaves green verses on bleached cloth, a chorus of crows. Willows sigh, feet resting in green. You can hear frogs, insect wings. A thousand songs hover just out of reach like an iridescent dragonfly. We lie on soft banks singing the same old words, a green song in a land of brass and hard blue silence.

of 5 stories this month > Get unlimited stories
You've read 5 of 5 free stories

Only $1 for your first month.

Get unlimited Monitor journalism.