FROM MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL JULY 14, 1999

A storm rolled through early

this morning, lightning and thunder, quickly, like a chickenshit who talks smart but doesn't want to stay around to fight.

The morning is dripping wet. Wind blows rain drops off leaves and the edges of things where they have been clinging like little monkeys along for the ride. The day could be steamy if it heats up.

I head north out of Fairwater, slowed by a tractor and spreader from the canning factory taking pea vine debris out to spread in its field. Farther north, the field of alfalfa is coming along and will be ready for another cutting, probably within two weeks. At the Sina pig farm a row of trees has been planted on the lawn along the road in front of the house. A cat is dead on the road, wet and dead on the road.

There is a tarp over the cleared roof of the house just north of Five Corners but it has been blown around and it did not keep rain from running into the house. The roofers are back at it this morning. "Hurry, Carpenter," we might say.

There is water standing in the new basement hole near Grace Lutheran Church. Raw clay is greasy with the rain on it. "Potter, throw me a pot. Carpenter, hurry."

Three crows above the Catholic Church along East Fond du Lac Street are going after each other. A display of angers in the open sky. They are not playing. It is not a game. What gives, Crow?