Chalk on the sidewalk. A storm was coming
up from the gulf, the air moved in a system
around a center of lowering pressure.
Wind from the east-northeast breathed into the
leaves of the river oak. Summer sat
so heavy on the pasture that the world
seemed liquid when you walked through it. At 3
or 3:30 the heavens burst, thunder
rips through the atmospheric density;
the moisture all the heat had bubbled up
then finds release in a quick, violent squall.
The okra bent under tropical waves
of force moving through July into August―
a hurricane if you were wondering.
No comments:
Post a Comment