Anvils in the sky shed tears To baptize the dry, dry ground. Desiccant winds deny moisture, Rend the veil of vaporous tears Disallow absolution to the earth. No holy libation to linger On the blades of wilted grass. Oh wicked wind! Rain pirate! The withered grass tells the tale. Rape and plunder of the blessed rain; The tears shed to baptize dust Never water wizened soil. 4/28/2024
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Incredible! I love it.
Excellent.