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  • Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: 'After a heavy rainfall, poems titled 'Rain' pour in from across the nation.

    Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.9, Anchor