Rouse
We diverted from our path.
Pausing to stroke the bush
Stirring feathers
amidst the weather
She rouses from her mid-day slumber
Shrugging off the broken doze
Of her much-needed sleep
She strained to whisper
Just like a trickster
Struggling to pick
The words that glitter
She created many magical paths
Hoping to shorten our journeys
Waving a finger like a wandering pin
Circling around a compass
We pondered with fretting feet
Wondering if to end this pending feat
Amidst a screaming timeline
we screen the closing pathway
As we envision an ending journey
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