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TOO MUCH, by Maya Herman.
Oh must we dream our dreams
and have them, too?
- Elizabeth Bishop
There is too much rain here; it came, quick, quicker -
it enters the room; it tingles the top of the head;
it runs down between the toes like sand.
There is too much green here; jade on jade -
rice sprouts in a watery field; rice grains
slip through my fingers like time.
Wild orchids are excessive as well; feverishly
holding onto the rough wet bark; blooming
on my pillow each evening.
Can there be too much even of this? But, remember,
too much is never enough. Recall
the golden moment between the rains
when everything is calm and breathes deeper, and
when I know why I hurry here where the sun rises. And, then,
the rains come again. Puddles turn to pearly streams,
in a moment, quick, quick, and flee,
flee away from the jungle -
in an instant
as centuries pass here,
and don't pass at all.
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