The first storm in weeks that felt redemptive. Not Fall or Fall adjacent. But there was something almost flirty: the way it brushed past, pushed to the Indiana side of the river; then at the water tower wrapped back over bringing a curtain of rain.
Tag Archives: summer
The great weeping world wrung dry
The heat will break but not before it breaks us. We do not acknowledge dreams of that blizzard from collective childhood memories, the world suspended like an insect in arctic amber… that urge for the silence right before snow falls
forgetting that silence terrifies us.
Lean in
Late August leans in, burns the gills grown
in a sweaty July. The garden groans.
Let the yard grow; it’s a slow death
give the crab grass it’s moment
under the excitement of an unrelenting sun.