The Angels Dance - Poem by Stefan nnn
looking to catch the wan dawn sun
through this -
soft gentle summer;
sweet, sweet, rain.
But, only bright bubble blurs -
I pitch forward, kneel,
on ground - strangely dry;
sheltering my face.
The rain runs down,
to bead on nose and moisten lips.
It tastes salty...
I don't know why.
I blink -
the angels dance.
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