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of rain

what if ripples from a raindrop
were one last call out into the wild, a touch on
another raindrop’s shoulders to say
this is where i am, i’m over here
now consider, carefully,
when we say
i love the sound of rain
what we hear against the roofs and windshields are their
bodies colliding, then sliding softly to their resting places
lost in the faces of puddles, oceans, and seas
it almost sounds cruel to think of it in this way …
but maybe we are romanced by the rain
because we see something beautiful in the way
it receives and lets go of its pain

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