an august afternoon

in the distance a mower
drones its low rumble.
from my bedroom window
all backyards seem empty.

a murder of crows land
on my neighbor’s lawn
pecking at unseen bugs
for their daily bread.

beneath this midday glare
all thoughts run together
bleached white
by an unrelenting dread.

in the distance gray clouds
gather on the horizon
while i sit here quietly
and pray for rain.