Crackling
breaks apart
the curtains in the sky
and lights up a path to the heavens.
On ground, a stomp -
pressing dirt
thump
disturbs the silent air.
The cornstalks
are crying
like newborns at midnight.
Their mouths are dry.
Ten seconds, another
thump
moves threatening winds.
The chill turns to
slick water,
filling the wounds of the living.
And I-
tilt my head against
the soft soil
to listen.
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