Bill Hammersley

Rookie (8/22/37 / NYC, NY)

The Rain

The silent rain falls gently by my window feeding, earth spreading
Moist across the meadow’s face.

Both tree and flower drink the silver liquid with avaricious thirst
The life that lifts their limbs toward heaven’s grace.

This rock called Earth, was meant for man, yet covered by the soil
Whose fare and moisture feeds the living soul.

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