I see the rain tap on the window
lying in bed, the pain radiating
from my hip to my knee--
The chickadees dip and fly-
their nest under the metal lip
of a vent in a our building
The cottonwood trees send messages
covering the air in brown and gold
They too are looking to recreate
As the pain eats into my head
I lie there
wishing I too could fly
on the spring rain--
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