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Pacific Rain

Stick to string

the viola takes the lead--

falls and rises

at the skylight

over her bed;

A back-and-forth bow

draws her out of hiding

like a note of scripture

plucked off the bed table,

a pencil whisper

under morning covers.

 

Night terrors clang.

Brassy cymbals, they crash

and fade--

out played 

by the hand-strung

pacific rain.

...By the grace of God I am what I am...

Paul to the church at Corinth (15:10)


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