Historically, our summer’s always dry.
The sprinklers rise and spray three times a week
at 7 in the morning. That’s when I
stay close to them – their sound is not unique,
but mimics rain on garden plants. The sky
denies us irrigation, fires wreak
us devastating, yet this August twice
we’ve had a little patter, and it’s nice.

(Ottava Rima)

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