We’ve got no one to see
and nothing to do
and nowhere to be
and we’re just humming along on a wind of youthful wholeness
a sea of wonder and experience swept in the undertow of a jealous mind
but caught
by a forgiving blanket of burnt brown leaves
crispy crunch crash pad landing.  
Now, isn’t death funny?  
Look long and hard there.  
Strain your ear some more.  
Ah, yes a twinkle bird’s tweet
and a lonely train’s blare.  
And the sun,
burning through your every care.