Thursday, September 24, 2015


A raucous rain
pelts the bower,
where petals strain
to guard the flowers.

A wind-blown Palm
bows to green sod,
offers a frond
for an unseen god.

The pond bubbles
in tiny cores,
water troubles
at the grassy shore.

A gator peers
a smile so sad,
with ancient leer
amid Lilly pads.

The ducks drift by
with no concern,
quack and cry, and,
moon the shore in turns.

Bower petals
feed the flora,
as kept kettles
release sweet water.

I view the scene
this shower show,
through sprinkled screen
an old dream, I know.


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