Heavens

It has been low, dim, and heavy, heavens part, light swoops onto open waters, the overflow of recent torrents glittering sky-fish skim. Keep on driving as if the road were silver rails. Right and left window worlds out of synch peripherally bifurcated by speed. The heavens part un-stitching fraying seams, smudges unravel. Light pushes into the open mouths of surface breathers. The grey is rent, more light bounces off eyes; it is a fast road; squint, grip the wheel tighter. Left and right small animals un-plod from the wet earth, hedgerows whisk thin colors expose nestlings in their cradle hideaways. Pick up a cup of instant noodles, a 6-pack from the quickie mart. On the lot heavens are opening one acre at a time, light lowers like a faded wedding gown marbling concrete dressing the cars in lacy. Reach into condo, eat noodles, drink beer while heavens knit together with a last twinkle of silver needles.