A Withering Rain
for example, he says,
the rain drummed on small thunder,
but we called the drought rain.
The red ground naked by night —
a fine drizzling,
a withering rain.
To dance, to dance,
into all that falling
and blowing at clouds,
and men with mud faces
spilling the air, and
the mist and corn, and
a watering-can (with holes
in parts where heaviest).
We buried it all
for a sip of magic.
It's Still Life 
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