They often recalled those long periods
of rain during their morning prayers,
as if something mechanical could ever
yield anything tender. Inevitably,
what came from under those deep-
uprooted grasses, they were unprepared
for. When the Black Roller rose the dark,
consuming dust from the upturned
plains with its aberrant tendrils,
all the good works they had endured
for the plow was only that of suffering.
There is no need to ask where you are.