like dew on a hot summer day i am burnt up and dried. down down in subterranean arches rivers run deep and cool, their laps taste of mineral and metal, they wait patiently for thousands of years, they seep. those echo chambers, i feel them running strong with the force of secrets, the strength of unsaid. but here on the surface, the grass browns and withers, the greens shrivel and grey. my fingers hold nothing but absence. and my heart. my heart waits for rain.