what evidence of summer storms remain upon the stones devoid of life's dark stain what succulence can droplets add to fruits when orchards nonexistent haven't roots what grief then should the cloud against the earth whose jagged mountaintops provoke to birth precipitation frozen from the womb feel for the granite seed to never bloom and so my love my love is nebulous unblown away it hovers anhelous awaiting signs to justify its care yet while it lingers raining gently there without evaporation from its cause it dissipates as if it never was