Hailstones
Suddendly everything is still.
Hailstones lay on the path
and in clumps along the garden
edges like frozen spawn
left by storm clouds now
dying into the distances
of the evening.
The light is muted, the cold,
soundless air hangs breathless
in the trees as if waiting
for the clouds offspring
to hatch and float them off
into the arms of the night.
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