It begins like gossip.
Before you realize it
it's all you hear.
Each dropp racing
to fill the crater
left by the last.
Steady, uniformly
without rhythm.
It comes down like sand
from a kid's beach bucket-
the deluge is a blur.
Then a shower…
a mist…
a fragrance…
and it's gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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