A-Z Challenge: Q is for Question

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Q is for Questions

Questions

I ask the world.

She answers in parables of rust

and empty branches.

She answers with the scent of fallen

leaves and the musk of earth,

turning over in a last fidget

before sleep under a white blanket.

She will dream her way back

to the dawning sun, to the place

where my skin and your skin is set

to flame. She will dream her way back

to leaf buds opening tender mouths

to early rain.

She will find me here, still asking

hollow questions that echo

through the mountain narrows.

The questions that keep piling

like leaves spent in flame.

She will answer

with a warm dancing wind that

rakes the sky's reflection

in the pond's watery eye.

She will answer with the light at dawn,

the sound of thrush and lark,

the smell of new grace.

In the fire silence of the hour,

she will answer with cirrus clouds

inked on the new opened canvas

of sky.