The clouds shouldered a path up the mountains
East of Ocampo, and then descended,
Scraping their bellies gray on the cracked shingles of slate.
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I like this poem Gary, it brings back memories of my expeiences with droughts and flooding rains! Beautifully put together
this website sucks bro im tired of these weird pop ups. I feel bothered
What is the theme? mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
There are so many advertisements I can't see the poem