texas, 1941

crickets flirt over the breeze
rippling through the moon-washed grove
the atmosphere sweet
with sun-ravaged grass
bare feet
over dirt road
move forward
the earth beneath
a flash on the horizon
a count of five
the reverberation of air collapsing
the empty space
announces the imminent approach
individual drops
a collaborative cacophony
pupil dilation
and the rain comes


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
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