The gray field of the rain had risen.
She slept on the worn patchwork quilt
of the sky.
When
...
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Wind chimes ring behind our house
in random harmony,
riffing with each passing bird
and thrumming bumblebee.
A glass dragon also sways there,
seeming mute while wind chimes sing,
but sunshine sparks cantos of light
from each iridescent wing.