Rainy Pond: A Sonnet

Go to the kudzo vine and watch the rain.
Nightfall dissolves the stars like water baths.
The chill- rude wind- cold air- swirl down a drain.
Rain drips slip through the earth, break new dirt paths.
You’re sealed. You’re lower than the fat large leaf
that flourishes in cold dew’s flute of brass.
Pearl ponds puff out fine dust with good relief.
Blown soap makes stars so full of popping glass.
Stars light the space wet like an oiled lamp.
The pond sets lights into orbs, curls ‘round flames.
Trees shake. The scar of wind, a great ink stamp,
runs through the pond along its bluest veins.
Your friend, the toad, upon the black wet edge
slips down the mud, burps loud-and then!-air froths
up bubbles; he forgets his one sole pledge.
Alone, it’s just the cold, the rain, the moths.
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