Water Come Down

Out of the corner of my eye
on a windy desert drive
I glimpsed a steady stream
of water come down.

While the resilient seep
trickled
I felt
a parallel ghost stream
embrace the grooves
of my cheek.

It spoke of hope, of glory, of pain,
of spring promises
and it polished
that black-orange-red-too-many-colors-to-count
desert rock
already varnished,

that dulcet reminder
of water come down.

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