rain poetry at the end of the road

Rain on the End of the Road

A clump of morning mist shed grain for grain that touched the leaves and made it the dew at the top of the grass
Time is so cold you call me down the road to grieve; miss

I will wipe the rain because not only you
The sun is missing me
I'll kutikam fog with a rainbow that has been visited
For your name is heard in the rain sermon of angels

And when the full moon dries you up
I have a twilight treatise on the sun in the morning

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