Wind tears at branches and the wires
that bring a charge vibrate in unison, plucked

by gusts, but not harmonic

the lake a soup of creatures all whisked
into whitecapped abrasions of gray surface

I walk capped and hunched, both with and against wind

now nights fatten like dark garnets on the tongue
now movement and the pattern of movement link

one to grasses bending

tribulation of rainfall only complexifies
a witness's participation in the besotting

I am colors running; I deliquesce