Trickle

Whispering Whirls of Words

Whispers creeping,

lies seeping

into woven fabric

weeping

like moss on stone

in the dreary haze

of a weary world.

Wind whipping whirls whispers,

a breeze of liquid streams —

finding cracks,

forming murmuring creeks

mumbling teary drips,

trickling —

undulating inundating ripples

of ignited flows upon leery stones

beaten and shaped over time.