It is raining this morning.
Like a woman with a broken foot,
The paradiddle on one side drums the tin roof heavily,
While on the other side a bit more lightly
-Crests and troughs-
One and TWO, three and FOUR…
It is as if the torrents were Pele’s legs
Dancing on her lava island
And all us who reside upon it:
Stomp glide, stomp glide, stomp glide…
Abiding this sweet gift of water
We must surely love the way it is given.
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