Storm
Today, a slant of rain. My thoughts merge into an atmospheric river. The cottonwood, so drunk on rainwater, is as if on the verge of speech. The pastures are approaching shaggy, some broken off walnut branches reaching up out of the grass. The willows are covered in catkins. I collapse with the cats on a couch, under a blanket, under the wide ribbons of water traveling from the atolls and reefs, from the islands, to here. A male barn owl made the purring call on my balcony railing last night. I know she will arrive for him, out of darkness, her feathers making her soundless. She will inspect the owl house perched within the leafless walnut tree. She will lay her eggs. The owls will hatch one at a time. They will shriek outside my windows.