Breath: blown by purposeful intent.
Warm spirit hangs on wings of love,
hovers over formless earth,
pregnant in the darkness.
Sand: sifting seed
of promise runs through
the hand of time counting on fingers
dry as dust, washed
in tides of circumstance.
Fire: crackles with anticipation,
licks its lips;
Throat croaks, hoarse for sweet
water of your presence.
Fire swallows, gulps down earth until
our lives are liquid in your hands.
We dance in living colour
and we are