Trees gather rain
near a school for the
blind, where they
stand side by side
like an old married
couple, creaking and
sighing with their
branches encumbered,
by droplets and crystals
from storms long
forgotten.
And when the clouds
part, and the ground
that was beaten, resembles
the Nile, or some other
Eden, the blind lose
themselves in the
usual distractions,
unaware of those
trees, or the sound
of the traffic.
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