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Spring Rain Icy fingers washed from my sight In the warm spring rain softly falling. It soaks the cool dark earth below From which life renewed, once more, is calling. Rising through brown meadow grass Unfolding from the cane and limb, Emerging from the ground, behold All growing forms of green begin. Distant drumming from above The rain now but a memory, Bright rays break through retreating clouds Giving hope for what I�ve yet to see! Douglas Fletcher 04/11/02 |
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