Breathing-in, Minnesota [a poem: now in Spanish and English]
In early fall, in Minnesota, the rain falls, falls,
In buckets, buckets and more buckets: drops
Likened to music from its many streamsland
Of ten-thousand lakes; moistened gravel, gravel
Everywhere…
Grandpa sits on the porchdaydreaming of, of
Something, perhaps winter around the corner;
As the flies disappear, with the mosquitoes…
Leaves will soon vanish, shadows will come early
Maybe he’s thinking about summer: miles […]
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