Stone Blood

Strike, fair weather,
bring your pike to the
jagged edge and squeeze,
making volatile that which
has tended to rest;

Make good on the stare,
ride up this air, 
waver and wave to
the tear in the heart's 
solid, pumping break;

Catatonia is awakened
by the breeze
and movement strides
to find another 
scent on the wind;

Mind not business
smell not cares
the water edges the dust
raising health to 
nostrils on the brink
of petrichorical bliss.