We are woken by thunderclaps
into a season of wind and rain.
Our thoughts are blown eastward
where they will be spoken one hour earlier.
Tomato plants bend and shake
within their cylindrical cages
That are open to the empty sky.
And so we turn over the days like compost
Amid rumors of a dramatic increase
in the volume and intensity of loneliness.
These days are marked by strangled cries
of stray cats cruising the cusp of night.