regained retained rained

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Sparrows call into the pool

This pool reflects the night

White embers speckle gradual

The cord isn't so tight.

A crowd of glowing indigence 

The golden fury reigns

A slip of finger once again

The pool begins to rain.

Begone dry skies once more

Begone soft earth below

Cold tears flood the feet

Of the many poor folk.

Uproar converts the masses

Strange shrieks convert the shore

We stand on the verge

Once more.






MUSINGS #17: I realized that water is a common metaphor I continue to use over and over again throughout my poetry. Everyone has a favorite definitive metaphor. What is yours?

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