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American Life in Poetry: Rain at the zoo

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Rain at the Zoo

A giraffe presented its head to me, tilting it

sideways, reaching out its long gray tongue.

I gave it my wheat cracker while small drops

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of rain pounded us both. Lightning cracked open

the sky. Zebras zipped across the field.

It was springtime in Michigan. I watched

the giraffe shuffle itself backwards, toward

the herd, its bone- and rust-colored fur beading

with water. The entire mix of animals stood

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