Not a sun- but a rain-dial, it tells time

rapidly, then untells it back again

like a rotary phone or pantomime

time machine. It pays to listen when

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it stutters T-, T-, T-, T-, like a furious squirrel

outraged you let your garden get so dry.

Safer to stand back and watch it whirl

its turret machine gun, firing at the sky.

This poem appeared in Geist 118 in a set of poems along with "Umbrella" which can be read here.

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