Grass tickles against the low kitchen window

Trying to raise a wink in that unblinking eye;

Alert for danger like a Russian woman,

Cat fur bristles against the coming storm.

That gray weight of clouds heavy as my emotion

Hard slow relentless as the push of wind

Can you imagine now

If you touch me?

What peals shudder through the air between us

Low and tingling like the pelt of dull drops

Or the distant beat of pagan drums

That call you near, invite to the fray

Always faster now, now always harder

Coming on and on without repeal:

The promise of a shocking smother of sparks

In a pool of rain between.