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Distant Wetness

October 22, 2018

 

I write at the instant the rain stops
and splits into some parts dry,
some parts wet enough to catch the reflection
of this morning’s promise through light and air
and, freshly aware
I lean my pen into what can be felt
as the water you throw rocks into
and watch the rings grow
as words appear on the page
and my poem writes itself from that dry part,
the one the rain inspires from a distance… 

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