I cannot tell if that patch is
The deepest part of the sky, or
Merely unlit air over the country club
But I hear the thunder, I know it came
From that quadrant of the storm, I know
Its den is somewhere within that
Dense pocket of black
Watching me move back and forth with yellow eyes
Across the glossy parking lot
Even after the rain has stopped
And its eyelids grow heavy as
It sinks back into dormancy
I feel the wind in small lukewarm gusts
Like the silent sigh of a beast in hibernation
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