Storm Sewer

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We head out
in search of adventure, walk
atop stone walls
along Brooklyn Street and peer
into holes, culverts and dead falls.

We avoid the cracks
in sidewalk and the black
maws of alleys with iron gates
festooned with red
rusted claws.

On the corner
of Amsterdam and Park
where the rain rivulets meet
and gurgle
deep into the sewer, we bend
and plop to our seat.

We cup our hands
to our ears and listen
to plinks, clinks and murmur
of polecat chat. He smiles unsure
and drops a stone into the grate.
Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books®

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