the rain is typing letters
on my shoulders
or is it poems? poor rain,
a poet too—
fallen stars—but
optimistic—daffodils
nod & take this all in
against the stone wall—
rain’s phrases glint so
fast across the pavement’s
mirror pages, there’s no
way to follow—still
soul gets no break in that
bamboo thicket where
syllables take shape: drizzle
leaf flower love
Jack Hayes
© 2017
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