basin road poem by stickpaste

it was always overcast
in the area i was born
the rain was overnight and drops
would find a rhythm
falling from an awning
down to the sod carpet outside

we lived at the mouth
of an old mine basin
just a little beyond the backyard
we would find tunnels and shafts
and stare into them wondering
what sort of strange worlds
were just beyond the grate

those places
where the frigid rush of
wind would come from
an unknown source
i would always imagine
it was an underground river
a thousand streams of rain