The rains come in big horseshoe drops, stirring the animals from
    their earthy slumbers. The antelope emerge first, followed by the
    birds of prey and singing dragonflies. The tortises cast their heads
    from the soil while lime green gila monsters parade their sharpening
    claws in front of clay banks bubbling with frogs. The frogs sing with
    the dragonflies, sing with the rains falling in hexagonal array.

    The replicative process begins before the waters amass too much
    strength, flowing into the drains of cactus stumps dotting the plains
    below.

      Oh, daddy, daddy, when will I be of replicative age?

    Soon my love, soon . . . Sooner than you may think.

    The frogs to the dragonflies, fly with the birds of prey as they land on
    the plain to joust with antelope foraging in the rising currents of
    newly roused armadillo. The interplay bewitches the eyes, shining
    chimerism, my cup runneth over . . .

      The fish daddy, what of the fish?

    Ah, the fish too fly with the frogs, for the air now seethes with
    more than primordial species, and the land foments in its everlasting
    turmoil, until submerged. The fish land on the land. Soon all is covered
    with water. The plants break open their brilliant colors of polyps arrayed
    in subluscent hemispheres.

    The cactus stumps, once poignant reminders of a barren land, swell
    and expand to the turgid fervor, gathering the waters into their
    expansile trunks, swallowing antelope and armadillo whole, sending
    once limpid arms to the sky. Into the sky they return the fallen waters.
    Into the earth they return the emergent fauna, separating mass from
    matter, material from manifold; the replicative process begins again,
    renewed anew..

    Retournez

    lynn@pharmdec.wustl.edu
    ÿ