poetry, writing

Tennessee Rains

The sun hid from view with not much to say.

The skies turned from a brilliant blue to a hazy gray.

Leaves on the poplar and oaks turned up.

Tree trunks swayed as the winds picked up.

Droplets began to fall, lightly at first, wetting the deck.

Little kisses from the sky, a bushel and a peck.

The birds and the squirrels hid while the heavens poured.

And we listened to the tin roof sing as the rains roared.

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