Wednesday, November 16, 2011

The Wet

The sky in thundered shuddering
spits light and shivered fire,
before it flings to waiting soil
the rains the earth desires.
Born in the belly of the day,
the season's suck and soul,
in heralded becoming,
the Wet returns and holds.
In echoed, deep reflection
the roof throws back the fall,
and sings of nature's blessed gift;
that which succours all.

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