Rain Dance
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Poem of the Day (POTD) Winner for April 15th, 2025
gently on the roof
water marches as rice grains,
manna from heaven
attend our homeland,
exiled clouds pour your romance
onto cracking earth.
Our poor scorpions,
in bellies of hot, dormant
wells raised their generations.
Shamans still dance in rings, arousing bands of blessing.
Timbre grows, grains gaining size, dusty dreams refreshing.
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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