Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Sonnet #46

I never wonder where the rain will fall

When the clouds gather, there is rain
There's space between one drop; the stain
of water on the ground will splash to all.
Of course there's space between the drops
Some places struck, some not, the mist of it
Will miss some minute specks of silt
Along the wall, but when the rain stops
It's hard to tell where one drop fell upon a wall
When the rain comes, we all get wet, all
Even with the umbrellas, galoshes, no props
will keep the cloud of spattering. Even now,
I feel the humid steam upon the windows

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