The earthy scent when rain falls on dry soil
             I can smell the earth waking up
It’s been hot here,        barren
               A vacant feeling

The leaves like wrapping paper
              Hollow sound of the wind swelling and          guttural acceleration
Tension      a weighted silence in     anticipation

I can hear the light of the sinking sky                 rhyming
               With the darkening     night
How will the language of the earth be different tomorrow?

Raindrops hugging words
                Moving             too fast              for me to decipher
They hit the leaves on the ground
               Like sugar to parchment paper

Whoosh of air as a passing car              decelerates
             How different would it be if I were             closer
Could feel the speed of the machine tickle
                 Crawl up my skin

Yet I can’t           stop                    thinking                about how heavy
               The silence in the wind sounds

                                                                                                    Now that you’re no longer
                                                                                                                                                                                                    here.

Gregory Caso is a graduate of Bucknell University with an honors degree in creative writing. He is currently pursuing an MFA in creative writing at Hofstra University. He works in both prose and poetry, and his work has previously been published in Mistake House, Diodata, and Fire and Ice. He is also a competitive long-distance runner, avid coffee drinker, and antique book collector.