Dust Before the Storm

The warning didn’t come
with sirens or lights.

It came quietly,
a shift in the air,
a stillness settling
like dust before a storm.

The horses grew restless,
pacing the fence line,
ears toward something
I could not yet see.

Even the cows
lifted their heads,
watching the horizon
as if it held
an answer I refused.

The stubborn goats
tested the gate,
leaning until the latch
rattled with insistence.

Still, I ignored it,
the unease in my chest,
the quiet truth
waiting at the edge of thought.

Sometimes we ignore,
not because we cannot see,
but because we hope
it will pass us by.