The mountains are on fire with clouds,
burning wet they billow up,
choking the spaces between the trees.
I hear the ticking of two clocks.
Furrowing through the valleys
fat white engulfs the state road,
levelling even the bell tower’s lopsided stones.
The crackling ash of rain stops.
Bonnie McClellan-Broussard 
Dear Bonnie A strong poem relating the power of nature. Liliane Sent from the desk of Liliane G. Richman
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