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 neither stop turning
  Nor quit its 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.