Wait for the language of the wind

Wait for the news it carries
Wait on the trees bowing, swaying in  choral duets with the wind
Wait on the full howl of night
Wait on the stony presence of this hour
Wait in the pale glowing clamour
Wait to be born fully ripe into the now
Wait on ripening
Round out the opening of red
Wait on torn cottony white time hanging on its line
Wait on minutes impregnated by hot rain and color
Stop waiting
Wait on morning draped in gauzy yellow curtains across the sky
Wait on writing the language of emotion
Wait on composing the notes of religion
Wait on articulating the melody of faith
Wait in the still hanging of this night
Wait in the lengthening stretch of the hours of your humanity
I wait on you
I always waited on you
I begin to sense that something now waits on me