Keep Moving
it might
be raining
sheets
soaking down the dirt
a spot for the stem
the river rises
a puddle forms
the streets slicken
all awash
town and country
fields and parking lots
all the soles
rushing to and fro
like scurried squirrels
grazed by tread
the drops miss nothing
above or below
‘cept the blur
the blink
was that a hummingbird
TL