Low dust clouds bristled
In the sky but I did not see;
A lone grackle whistled
A warning I did not perceive.

The world would not cease turning
In its cruel mockery.
I sat upon a rock, faltering –
Because of things that wouldn’t be.

Only distraction can persuade –
Only sleep can steal
Such sadness that pervades
And hot tears that swell

But hotter yet came a wind
That brushed my fingers
As would one consoling
And dried my tears.