They're out there: little packages
of soul wrapped tightly in their skins. Some buried
deep in the stack while others are visible
at the rim. Now, as I look across sky
gray-dark clouds hanging low
pregnant with wind and rain, I think:
they must be seeing this too
from some other direction or just below
the stormline. A few early raindrops
collide against glass and I know
there are millions more to come.
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