The sound of raindrops
Says all that needs said without
The clutter of words

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on September 9, 2015, in Wee Poems and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. After a summer of very little rain we have some this morning. Your poem fits. I want to finish reading these emails. Drink some melon juice for breakfast and hopefully the rain will sill be falling when I’m ready to relax.


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