Sometimes, It Rains
Too Hard
The steady shower
that is welcomed
by the grateful ground
grows impatient.
It pours from
every cloud.
Picks up the tempo.
Pounds on the roofs.
Runs from the plants.
Spills over into places
it doesn't belong.
Sits in puddles
until the sun
lifts it back
into the air.
Do you write about storms?
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