Storm clouds, storm front, light in the east,

Two bright white stars out on the blue black and twilight road,
laughing to each other, pavement footed

Fits and starts,

Lightning orange striking in the distant, a snake, the thunder a drowsy rolling roar,

Wind whistling now, chimes sound the same as rain as a dream,

Morning hours down the road, electricity coming up out of the ground shocking the trees into color and

It has rained all week, cornroot says it will walk away, somewhere dry,

Water red brown sky red yellow behind the clouds he says that means the sun is up somewhere

To the edge of the hills, my eyes not yet working, still asleep we made the hour and a half in twenty minutes, a red mule and cows scaling the slope,

Fragrance from the woods, honeysuckle, black berry, dew, in the wind,

someone was murdered, and someone died,

and i swear that is the same man that was here last time,

weak coffee, we watch the wind turbines turn, like the giants they are, aiming at the wind in independent motion,

if this is possible, everything is

the one hill in this stretch of mississippi, toothed up with a cemetery