A Waiting

I have seen
the grasses grow tall
supple, tree straight,

Seen them greenly nod
their purple and russet heads
as the rains thinned

Into dew, wintering
the light turned golden.
my eyes sage

Wells of thirst,
I am full with a sapience
of knowing.

The sickle stab of light
in a tapestry of grass,
is that you, O Time...

I am a waiting
for the coming of words
grey of tongue, to storytell

All that's hard to hear.