A Lexicon to Fill a Rain Gauge
Shifting wheat. Cattail seed sprung like birdshot. The tarp horsewhip above the half-worked harvest in sheaves. Here again, the air turned nickel, season of drop cloth sky. What’s another word for idle that’s not sloth? For regret that’s not failure? The horse bucked her birthing colt snap neck against the concrete. What’s another word for salvage that’s not storm? The wind turned sinew white. The corn stalks bristled. What’s another word for jubilee that’s not written in mud and a thousand concussions on the coop’s tin roof?