The rain rolls and makes bullets.
Wedding spells with a pistol.
The land is overflowing. Overflows the sky.
Smells clean. New to.
Smells of roasted heavy figs,
Muddy grass, spices.
Water crashes into walls and chimneys
And wet men and ants.
And all are hiding, and they all rejoice,
Have not tasted moisture long ago.
The earth is washed. The sky is washed.
And we are all clean and equal.
© Elenka Smilenova 2017 – All Rights Reserved