It’s a cleansing

a falling of warm comfort

or cold for thirst, running from

streams to oceans

cast down from openings

the drops add to earth’s bounty

the catch basin

never filling or emptying

held steadfast by shorelines

the great walls


the formidable wrath

of angry giants

searching, hoping for

an escape, a way out

to devour and flood

what isn’t theirs.


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