Pulling, dragging, floating, we wait.
Warming waters and shifting sand forms the mood.
You hold the answers.
Speaking in dreams, you guide us.
Smokey winds are unpredictable and ever-present.
Striking the clear skies, the thunder is deep, like a distant memory.
We know our place.
The full moon outlines faceless shadows.
In the darkness we find familiarity.
We are the black rising mounds.