After the storm

Mike Bell/ July 27, 2016/ 0 comments

It had long-passed,
but the field we walked,
as I had warned,
soaked our shoes,
the dog almost drowned
(in the clumps of grass).

Under a pair of beech trees
I looked up,
seeing frail silhouettes
over silhouettes,
rain-glued translucency,
in forced overlaps

under a still-threatening sky:
All the time
the single rhododendron
was impervious
to the wetness suffered
by the rest of us.

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