all things give, eventually.
thunderstorms to clear mornings,
old pines to the wind,
the sunset to starlight,
a hope to a whim,
twelve a.m. to sleep,
tall mountains to time,
drought season to rain,
and reason to rhyme.
to you, i gave me.
although (naturally)
it's nothing you'll be able to brag about..
discordant and wistful as i must always be.
