‘
White rain falls
The horizon disappears in fog.
Rainslick blackbirds duck their heads
And cling to rainblack branches
Swaying in the wind.
One bird, his colors muted
By the dark afternoon, by the drowning rain
Launches from a twig
and drops like a stone in the heavy air.
He recovers, bouncing as if off of an invisible trampoline
And bouys up and lights in a brittle treetop trident
Shaking droplets all around.
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