Lying face down in the grass
which is still wet with rain. It is
even more green up close. Weeds
have gone to seed all over so
there are birds everywhere nestled
around me. Feeding. Nourishing
While they dream. They took trees
down, one older than your great-grandfather, three houses past ours, on
this street of sorrows. Its enormous
Life is over. I smelled sawdust pasty
on the asphalt, fallen down into cool
brazen veins.
The damp still held the smoke, echoed
the daylong grinding down, the secret
burning edges. The teeth of steel.
Now again the storm relents, they
return to feast, to tweet, to turn me
to my back, my dreams one day
of becoming a tree.
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