Young Rain

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April rains come in bursts of personality.
One is soft and sweet.
She will dance and flit drips into the pines.
Watch how they fall, nearly countable.
I feel an energy building.
This teenage storm thrives on parties and wild growth,
without regard for the future,
nor concern for the moment.

Thunder hits after a few hours of cool sun.
A heavy pounding of rain falls loosely out of broken clouds.
The early adult, crashing in my midst,
seeks to saturate a forest.
The land can only take a little more.
I will be too wet.
The spring surprises I love overcharge me.

What lies quiet and dead-like in the earth is soon living.
This story is old, but filled with the never-ending new.
The slow evolving seeds fill me with intense color.
I awaken deeper than before.

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