The climbing earth meets the alighting sky ,
Trying tirelessly to douse its ball of fire ,
But only dims it ,
As it shrivels with a secretive queer whisper ,
only heard ,
and known by tens of trailing nomadic birds .
It is their calling to their destiny ,
embedded in the horizon .
They shall fade together in alfresco .
But for the eyes of many ,
it is a flower ,
denuded of its petals .
But not forever ;
Tomorrow like a bud it shall blossom.