A Hundred Gourds 3:1 December 2013
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A Quiet Rain

words on a white stone
the flag flaps
louder than ever

young boys with water pistols
ride the parade float

heat wave
her proper upbringing
out the window

through her sundress

end of the day
the balloon seller calls me

riding the rollercoaster
weightless again

late August
the meadow path ends
in a wall of grass

geese and their goslings
now indistinguishable

a quiet
the language of letting go

disappearing in the mist
the long arc of the bridge

Written via email over the summer of 2013
by Peter Newton, Massachusetts, USA
& Kathe L. Palka, New Jersey, USA

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