By Brooks Haxton
Cattle egrets in the dry grass waded like white clerics at the hooves of brood cows, heifers, and new calves.
Forked lightning. Calm. The darkness in the cattle tank welled up and flooded the reflection of the trees.
Turkey vultures wheeled, and wheeled away. No swifts, no swallows, children gone indoors. Rain seethed into the willowtops,
sky flashing, while the black bull under the water locust glowed with an inward surge of darkness.
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Excerpt from THEY LIFT THEIR WINGS TO CRY. Copyright © 2008 by Brooks Haxton. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.