The Hail

The hail comes down like a speeding cheetah
It bounces and ricochetes off the window
Then sits there and melts away slowly
Leaving a puddle leizurly as if slowing down
Pouncing on the next crack in the sidewalk
Waiting with pleasure until the sun comes out
And the puddle can be with the sky once more
It wonders in what shape or form it will come down again as.





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