phantom of a plane
drifts through the low
hanging whispers of
this day's downpour
the beads of its blessings
stain the windshield
on the chilling journey home
advancing green turns
slowing yellow and halted red
in the mirrored streets
and echoes of the darkening day
all those shiny streets
and miniature rivers flow
home to Ruthman and fading
flora faces looking down and humble
below the giant, red, maple, wet
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