Daily Prompt: Free Association
Write down the first words that comes to mind when we say . . .
. . . home.
. . . soil.
. . . rain.
Use those words in the title of your post.
Home = Water. Soil = Hillsides. Rain = Red Rubber Boots.
Not even a single solitary salty teardrop.
The landscape is coughing. Wheezing.
The river a mile away — dust at its mouth.
Hillsides like old corpses. Rotting. Collapsing.
Victimized by winds and gales.
Last week they rose above the rooftops; today they are the height of my rubber boots.
My brand new red rubber boots. The ones I wear when I dance for rain.
I am tired now. Who will dance for water?
Who will wear them out, stomping and turning,
gliding and spinning on dusty hillsides
beneath the clouds and moon and sun?