in which everything turns

In the middle of the afternoon

rain poured down in buckets

just as we’d given up, decided

in fact, drought was here again.

 

A torrent of water flew down

like bird-words shrieking and cavorting

in a wild sky turned grey

even as everything turned:

 

colour returned to grass as each

leaf trembled in relief; I saw the ground

breathe deep,  seedlings become

plants, two sycamores

 

ten cypresses,  shaken with

delight. Only the roses drooped,

their vibrancy caught in a drama

of pain, heads bent to avoid drowning.

 

Copyrighted by the author

 

 

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