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Tribal Rain

I close my eyes and I am transported

to a rainforest during a deluge

where the steam rises and turns

everything misty and magical,

and in the distance, tribal drums

beat in cadence to the rain.

When reality draws me back to the now,

there is a chill to the February rain

and the tribal beat is merely the dancing

of rain upon an old rusted paint can.

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Written by
lori-carlson
American
Published
Feb 20, 2010
Lines·Words
10·68
Notes

© 2010 Lori Carlson

All poetry under the names Lori Carlson or Iona Nerissa are the sole property of Lori Carlson.

Please seek permission before using any of my writings.

~Lori Carlson~

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