Wells of the Street

Standing under the cloth umbrella

Rain critters hopping

Around me

I look down

Into the rivers

Made by light

Seeing the wells

Of light reaching below the street

To infinity

.

Above it all

The wooden homes

Darkened by

Morning

A sun of dark grey mist

Is all

.

In some

The little lights

They beckon warmth

Acceptance

A place

To rest my head

And go back

To that dry warm sleep

.

But the rain

Is padding

Onto

My umbrella

Hitting

A chiming clock

With dark trees

Reflected

In a shining mirror

.

I sink

Back into my well

Never to have my world

Seen again

Until

The next rain

Where heralded

By the rain critters

Rising through

A clear pool of water

Into the usually

Unforgiving

Mirror less walls

Of ours

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