Leaf
wets the surface,
a weave of lines
running, each one broken.
Water cavorts, drips long,
trickles from the stem.
Pools gather and slide,
tiny collections running
of glistening glaze.
It spills endless,
rivulets and streams,
bouncing to land.
Friday, 2 July 2021
A Poem a Day (445): Leaf
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