Patrice Sarath

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weather poem

the writing life

Rain down on me with words

Weather’s gift in August is gratefully accepted, When a breeze scatters leaves and the sun is veiled. Thunderclouds tower and darkly sail. Rain, we say, rain! This time of year! So unexpected! The other night silent lightning illuminated the sky, A pulsing white aurora — we saw this movie, we Read more…

By Patrice Sarath, 7 years7 years ago
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