The trees bend and creek
Tops whirling like many helicopters overhead

A branch it breaks and arcs like a javelin thrown from above
I duck for cover under the eaves
an animal again-
very alone very alive-

Perhaps only to die head struck
pinned under an old limb or a bough.

Same as the squirrel in the fallen nest,
the mouse in the cat’s mouth,
the bird blown out of the sky.

Perhaps only to die headstruck
pinned under an old limb or a bough.

Buried in the earth,
I turn back into the dirt.
From dust to dust again
very alone no longer alive.

Perhaps only to die headstruck pinned under an old limb or a bough.