Summer Rain

by Bill Keller


We went walking after rain

through earthworms stuck on cement:

strange crooks and curlicues,

an uncanny alphabet.


We were travelers, too, 

wondering where the path went,

how lasting the dewy hush 

would be, and the muddy scent.


A loosely knotted bow, 

tail overlapping head, 

was inexplicable 

except as a message meant

just for us. Reaching for your

hand felt like life or death.

Bill Keller

Novelist and poet
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