The Calm Before

Where the purring swallows,
their unpruned shadows surfacing,
stop to rest, a sagging wire
coursing vigor from the house
to the barn and back,
the air exhales a nervous
twitch, halfway hitched
between the throat and mouth,
the half-life love exhumed
in droppings splatting on a car,
a road, the green of grass
sloshed with dewy shiny
black in the aftermath
of Sunday morning mass
both given and taken
by the wind that winds
through the hackled countryside
with a heckle and a handshake
over dryad handshake
promenading home.

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