mosquitoneedles

I’ll say this until I can’t speak
the trees are crying leaves 
nightly the frogs creak

I’ll say I miss the way it used to be
mosquitos kissed my feet, smog sung to me sweetly
the sun barred its bright teeth

For now I’ll be in my front lawn
weeding clovers again,
and reuniting the soil with friends from last spring,
where I&#39;ll wait for luck to find me

or watching foxes chase rabbits into headlights
staring into their ultimate demise:

uncertainty