The Streams of Crimson

Soon the clouds began to cry
The soil bore the weight of the rain
But its wounds deepened
A trickle of red flowed down the hill
Its sobs echo though the lands
I hear the leaves drinking rain
The saccharine smell of Lilly Pilly lingers in the air
Now, there are streams of dark crimson
Chasing each other
Playing
Laughing
Mocking the dusty dirt path
My mind is a tranquil lake
I close my eyes
And listen to the steady heartbeat of nature