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This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 4 Number 4, 1975.

Before the Storm John Mole

1

Walls, window-frames -
the air's pulse
thickens to livid white.

I remember my father's
greenhouse, raftered
with humming vines,

the blown tomatoes
mouthing their split skins
in a scented heat

and my toy can. Dad
fitted its nozzle. Apprentice
rain-maker I became . . .

Happy, I brought
dark spots to the earth.
I cooled everything


2

but everything is not cooled.
Packed in their white feathers
...


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