Raining in Summer
there upon my bedroom pane
is weaved a weary course of rain
so indescript are they
that chase and pause then run again
from clouds they come
to drip upon parched tongues
and the thirsty fingers of
brittle wanting roots
~ponds fill
now... abrim with tears
pensive and sad - lonely and glad
should I wake in this gray mood
at the tempting edge of yawn
or linger in each languid refrain?
as its melody plays the music
of a lazy dawn ~ before I wake
before it's gone...
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