Thursday, April 1, 2010

Flood Watch

This rain ignores rivers pushing
against boundaries—sprawling
across winter packed ground.
It stops when wrung dry like tears.

This rain turns my street
into a stream. A rush of water
rolls pebbles, loose gravel
and a child's ball.

The tears, absorbed by time,
hide until a surge of memory.
The clouds swollen with moisture let go.

Linda Watskin © 2010

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