It’s a yearning, and it’s painful.
The saw grass blooms and the centipede ran so far it covered the sidewalk.
There were significant negative events,
an extensive contagion,
a painful orchestration,
and a disaster that was for sale.
The telephone rang, and a woman said that a storm was coming.
I told her not to worry.
I have no special talent.
The sky is grim, reminding us
that storms draw something out of us.
Costly and cleansing.