Poem 46

for her in the library, as we wait for him to come wandering by… oh the changes in a year.

Push on push on
Clouds of cotton tensing fingers
Pushing on pushing
And we are trifles to believe
That we push anything at all…
When they push the rain. We push
Our palpable novelties. No more
Push on push on
Bring the rain then
Bring the rain!
And meet our smallness with your greatness
Pushing on. Pushing on.
Pushing on pushing
Cotton clouds so innocent but burdened, so burdened
We watch them pushing on and on and on
Bring the rain, bring the rain!
–ECW
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