Airplane tails criss-cross in the sky
like buried treasure, like stars.
I hold up my finger to trace them through the clouds
and think of droplets running down a windowsill
thick rain
long drives home.
Somewhere, someone is divining for water –
branches crossed in hope,
trudging through forests in search of streams,
listening for currents and kicking up leaves
and between my fingers, your fingers weave,
and your skin has turned a brilliant blue.
I close my eyes.
The traffic sounds like waves.
Divining
Harry Harris is a writer, singer and storyteller from the depths of Mid-Wales currently hawking his wares in London. His debut album was released this year on Wild Sound Recordings, and a follow up "Songs About Other People" is due out in November. He regularly contributes to Sabotage Times, Topman Generation, Work In Prowess and Best For Film. Almost everything he writes is a lie. His name isn't even Harry.