at first
the rain is a sound
of unaccustomed strangeness
the croak of rust
in a voice
that rarely speaks
and
at first the rain
is the sound
that the wind blows
moving leaf and branch
without pause for its breath
then the rain
becomes the sound
of a frog call
emerging
into the wet to speak
as to a mate
at last
the rain is the sound
of the wash of a car
hooshing waves
from beneath its wheels
in the darkness
of an early morning
as it glides
to work
~
I like the sounds and the feel of this.
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Glad you enjoyed. Thank you.
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Wonderful!
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Thank you Peter.
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