moist air in a dry city: flood

the silence has questioned
the still breeze
why has it not stirred the curtains
covering the procrastinating spirit
of the swollen river
that is refusing to settle down

after eroding all the banks
leaving eyes dry
air is moistened
i am waiting for a call
from the far island
almost swarmed by the waves
if I can gather enough will
to swim across the river
and gather the remnants of a boat stuck
in some trees fallen on the islands
i am waiting
but should i be waiting?