71/365: Late Winter Desert

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I miss rain.
The sparsity of long winters held
within such large space here
is its own kind of drought. 
Meditation on a wet sidewalk
steaming under rain after a hot day,
my feet pressed to porous concrete,
the plash of drops hitting the rush to the gutter,
is pornography:
my heart walks a desert. 

I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.