The Rain falls on the rooftops,
the water trickles down the sloping hats of the houses.
Tracing its path with the overlap armor of the shingles
that keeps the insides dry.
Flowing down into the eavestrough
that trace the borders of the roofs.
The troughs sit patiently, waiting.
Waiting to catch the water,
waiting to be filled, and made useful.
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