Madness of clouds

The water drops
Are round as they fall,
They sing of invisible things;
Then comes the splash,
The thud, the crash in the mud:
Small quartz crystals scatter
Impatient to become static.
A maple leaf burns
In the late September sun
Brown at the edges
And falls.
The asphalt stretches solid,
Rough and so grey and cracked —
A background drone
To a canticle interrupted
By coming of winter.

Stay in the rain, stand
Among patterns, imbibe
The madness of clouds
Settling among fallen
Sisters of stars.

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