Poetry, August 2020

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We met
Inside
The eye
Of a storm

Quiet calm
Inside
Wild winds
Whistling high

Different paths
Already taken
Meeting briefly
On the road

I am soaked
With weeping rain
I wonder
Are you my coat?

Or you might be
A cedar tree
Uprooted
in my waters

Whichever way
You are Magnolias–
A sweet distraction
From the flood.