my tomato plants are dead
each leaf a black reminder of cold ground
the vines have slackened their hold on the world
the fruit is rotten
winter is creeping into the air
the rain pouring in sheets
the crows sit on the wires across the alley
ruffle their feathers sending droplets to the street below
they call out to the gray clouds
now so close you could reach out and touch them
their raspy voices echo across the world
with glinting prizes in their beaks they fly furiously on
my cat at the window flicks his tail
making small clicking noises of annoyance at their tantalizing presence
he turns his golden eyes to me
and purrs his animal love to the wildness he remembers
I wrap my arms around myself
rest my forehead against the cool glass
watch the day darken
and wish passion was for something better than this
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