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D a v i d   H O L B R O O K

(born in 1923)

Drought

So, we're estranged again -- how it goes on!
Your who-you-are dissolved: my disappointed me
Skulking in silence. Rain falls, then it is gone.
The sun's bright on wet roofs, every washed tree
Has June's hard highlights, while a rivulet
Runs down the road that has been dry a month.
And with it run the feelings that I let
Flow as I contemplate our last dry month.

We have been very close, we have been sweet,
Fresh, active, despite flaws, and our old rout
Of masked ghost predators. Perhaps tonight
Some sudden shower again will break our draught?
Both of us are, I know, in our sorrow,
Watching the same rain from our each window.

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