At the dead of night there was my rain
Quietly falling with no fuss about trees
By black tar road with no maps on them.
Rain would fall on a sleep’s dreamstate
Ever so softly, like lover woman’s hush.

All is so quiet , a sort of modus vivendi.
I and rain co-exist in my peaceful sleep
And the clouds would rant no lightning.

I do not wish to think of the puddle frogs
That arrived from nowhere at my dawn
To croak the hell out of morning’s quiet,
Nor of dead moth wings on window sill
That had tried to enter light from a rain.

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