A top floor door that opens to outpour.
Who would see her drench in the summer rain?
The birds that flew northwest would be sleeping in the nest.
Silver owls hoot gracefully scanning dead of night.
Footprints of frogs near the drain hole.
Dancing insects under the lit street lamps.
What was she doing alone in April?
No one should answer it.
No one should question it too.
– Emily Parker
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