— Eric Pankey

The water subsided. The clouds broke. Little would burn after the deluge. Fires sputtered and quenched themselves. Cows, goats, whole flocks of birds—unscavenged, bloated—cluttered the fields like scattered erratics. How quiet it was without the rain pelting the shoreless distance, without the constant company of thunder. I gleaned a message from randomness, called it the new covenant. With only a bundle of notebooks as a pillow, I lay my head down.

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