Night, straining toward cool. The cats on the porch startle at my approach then slide into the dark. A quiet house. The room’s single lamp.
Night, back porch. Crickets, frogs, faint music from a house. A weight of words unsaid to people far away presses down, like an unseen hand.
The airport. An expansive loneliness after passing through security. The mind hurtling before the body across oceans to another shore.
Thunder percusses soil and rock and I feel it through my feet. A strength verging on violence, a power smelling of destruction.