Time: 3:56 AM.
I’m eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
my gaze fixed outside my window.
The sky looks bruised and angry,
like a raging child with flailing arms.
The streets are almost empty.
Trucks snuggled up against walls,
with yellow flashing blinkers.
The wind whistles along my window.
Again, and again — regular crickets.
I’ve filled plastic totes full of water,
and stocked the shelves.
The unknown bears down in squalls of wind.
Not yet a drop of rain.