she likes the way the creek flows through their eyes. its force calls her name. listening attentively, she falls into it, spiraling into blurry temperatures for seasons at a time. the cycle continues again and again. drenched in defeat, the flow of gases catches her innocence, hanging her to dry with the white linens on a summer afternoon.
before its sway can pull her again, rugged rope ties her ankles to the hidden corners of earth. her ears are plugged with ringing oceans and lotus petals bury her rods and cones. she is still current.
with time, stability forms near her ribs, strengthening the arched dam by her crown. her channels flow swiftly, like the gliding flock of birds that drink from her streams. elliptical arms amplify waves, massaging nadir to rise with zenith, arranging crest waves to circulate time.
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