One Toe Tapping

She rocks, back, forth,
one toe tapping
on the porch planks
to the beat of rain.

She rocks back, forth
in screaming silence.
Her bed is long made.
Her chores are all done.

She rocks back, forth,
sipping homemade wine,
swallowing the bitter,
threadbare taste of time.

She rocks back, forth,
listening in accordance,
as the swollen sky weeps
in heavy beads of woe.

She rocks back, forth,
while fallow fields
shrug off the rain,
no longer useful.

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