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August 9, 2007
Hot heavy sky.
Close,
Closer,
Closing in upon the earth.

Gusts whip hayfields
Into undulating waves.
Mimicking the sea,
Mocking the longing
For a cool island breeze.

Darkness comes rapidly
As clouds encroach,
Not waiting for nightfall
But racing with the wind;
Battering the air
To the color of bruises.

The wind’s rush and moan
Deepens in timbre
To a roar –
as of crowds, fire,
the horror of war –
Or the pounding of rain.

A deluge, a downpour,
Water sheeting down
in biblical proportions.
No single drop seen or felt,
just the humidity –
Suffocating, suffocation –
made solid.
Washing itself away.