5/8/13

Scitter

Even now the tips 
Content themselves
To laugh with drips

Each surface wit
A shiny cache 
Of frightning
Whipping through it

All the leaves free
As birds on a sneeze
Of the storm that be
So close in memory

All the leaves alone
Whispering others
Also alone

Listen to the tips
That crinkle like boy
Careful toy handled
Avoiding rips

No sun now
No rain either
Yet they keep dripping

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