2022.02.04.
Thunderbolt
Last night, it rained.A fragrance of wet grass in the lane.
Then, again, the hand of heat
on our shoulder as if to mean
that time was not to deprive us from anything.
Yet, there,
where the field comes to stub against the almond-tree,
See, a wild cat made a leap
from yesterday to today
through the leaves.
And both of us stop,
feeling out the world,
And I come next to you,
I finish tearing you off the blackened trunk,
Branch, thunderbolted summer,
Out of which yesterday's sap, still divine, flows.