Ground Crab Season

the music had stopped

i went looking in the rain

pouring warm over bare arms

a familiar but not heard in a long while voice

droplets bouncing off her face

down a steep hill

till the dirt road at the bottom of the city is found

climbing out on the limb

I discover I have been here before

there was no way up from the bottom of the bottom

so I turn

grab the vines and the branches carefully

finding the way back a little scary but done

at the fence

the ground moves with shells and pincers

and I remember

it is crab season