deepundergroundpoetry.com
Rain
Then, moisture
Where before dusty tarmac
Had lain in aching heat
Now it breathes
Scents of soaking grass
A touch of ash, a breeze
All those trees
Tall, imposing as spires
In the dreaming city
With canals flowing
Bitter man-made waters
Choking on debris
Rising now
As the sky water lilts down
To replenish the dead
All those souls
Turn to the soil
To feel a drop of life
As the ground soups
Becoming murky, a muck filled swamp
Sinuses quiver
The approach
Of lightning, sharp on the tongue
Like blood in your nose
All those smells
Shining liquid on tarmac
Is somehow sweetly familiar
Water planing
With the windows down
To catch a sniff, a memory
The air hangs
After, you can taste the mist
That lives in all of us
Where before dusty tarmac
Had lain in aching heat
Now it breathes
Scents of soaking grass
A touch of ash, a breeze
All those trees
Tall, imposing as spires
In the dreaming city
With canals flowing
Bitter man-made waters
Choking on debris
Rising now
As the sky water lilts down
To replenish the dead
All those souls
Turn to the soil
To feel a drop of life
As the ground soups
Becoming murky, a muck filled swamp
Sinuses quiver
The approach
Of lightning, sharp on the tongue
Like blood in your nose
All those smells
Shining liquid on tarmac
Is somehow sweetly familiar
Water planing
With the windows down
To catch a sniff, a memory
The air hangs
After, you can taste the mist
That lives in all of us
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