Drip Drip Drop
Drip drip drop The sky merging Earth unsuspecting and the wind messenger carrier-lover moves the drop to a flower pot Where a flower is or will be. Seven rows of seven glands Parched from ceaseless activity Cry out from the burdens of sky watching - dial 0 to speak with the operator "may I have your account # please?" In the seas there is a little Green man who adjusts the tides To conform to the newborn. "Natasha! Natasha" "What - what Is it?" There is a fire and it keeps away the bugs.