POST 222: bugs, trees, death, alive, South Carolina, painting poem

by Carol Bass

OUT AMONG THE TREES

where you are with the bugs
flying through thick branches
clusters of waxy dark green leaves
the wren appears
snatching one
ending a tiny life
sustaining another

red tail leaves a feather
by shrub oaks
for brushing your cheek with eternity
ones left living
swimming in world sadness
keep returning to sunrises

outside the Piggly Wiggly
at 7:16 am
for bagels and love
keep breathing
58 grackles on the telephone wire
like boats moored in the harbor
all pointed toward the dumpster
even two old men
in the parking lot
stop talking to look up

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