Steam - Poem by gershon hepner
I see the water steaming off the roofs
this morning, now the warming sun has risen.
The rain that pounded yesterday like hoofs
escapes like convicts who, released from prison,
must be transformed, remembered not as devils
as they rejoin society, elated
when their escape valve takes them to new levels,
and they, no longer steamed, are reinstated.
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