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Drift

photo credit: Vlad Chețan

The rain washes leaves and soil and discarded tissues and all the other detritus into the road verge and out of the path of cars and pedestrians and worms and squirrels. A small piece of paper falls out of the window of a passing car and glides, guided by the stream to the verge where it will join the other discards of sadness and happiness alike. A school bus stops, letting off children in slickers and galoshes, some of whom run home, while others dawdle to clomp and splash in the transitory pools. There is no wind--just gravity-- drawing the water and trash toward the edge of the road, the grass, the place where we will be most welcomed.


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