A watermelon girl
and loads of iced water.
No end to the drought, yet I
found weird berries and purple
blossoms. And a wind wheel, attached
to a construction fence, an actual wind
wheel, whirling happily while the clouds
kept nagging me with inconstancy, denying
more than just rain.
The meadows feel like prairies, even the trees
started withering. Ground water levels running
low as if Gaia was pulling everything into her core
unbothered by superficial growth and decay.
As long as the mycelium connects, the nutrient lowway
bridging Flora and Fauna, the deep web of fungi,
I won’t stop hearkening into the soil.
© Matthias Grupe, 21st July 2018