A cloudburst sweeps
fog from the river,
tinseling the fading day.
Warm drops puddle in cupped
leaves, running rivulets
down her upswept limbs
to pool in her roots.
She waltzes with the wind
a while, then turns
a tango with the tide.
You cannot fault the moon
for reflecting his pleasure
when clouds open and light
falls on a laughing tree.
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