Comments about sue aspell
The Rain Dance
The night the trickle started
was the beginning of his undoing.
Stooping to unlace, the first dropp fell
soaking, numbing his fingers.
Fumbling, he finally separated
foot from shoe, as mizzlers coursed
continuously from his fringe. Through
a proscenium arch he wathed himself
dance the rain dance and wondered.
Laces snaking from his shoes, burrowed
into ground, sopping guy ropes
slipping, aided by tears dropping
from eyelashes and sky, His vision blurred
for an instant and the earth sucked dry
his sappy juice, for the roots buried ...