Verdant Bombshell

Third in a series of rain poems, experimenting with negatives and imagery.

Photo by Basil Smith on Unsplash

Be it during thin-iced roads in below-zero Fahrenheit,
milky tree branches puppeteering weeping willows, 
sun-glossed glass at the edge of retreating oceans,
or crayon wax red leaves conglomerating in gutters,
all rain storms are beautiful to me. Beautiful not 
in the chemical spill dyed rainwater deluging
in and out of s…