downpour pure

by Steven J. Serafiani

the rain creates ghosts in us; wet cloth
withdrawn from the
menagerie of cultured plastic town where
colorful conversation hides in the
neon swirl up;
illuminates what nature already glows.
Sámara was here before, always will be,
with or without us christening its name.
a lush cloud pepper coats all just
for a brief pure
commune.

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