Shook elms lining the sloped

edges of a pitted road drop

their dying leaves while

Simon with Sam heave-ho

the grounded ones then

threaten each other with

pellets and rope.

…

Somewhere above the

yellow-brown heaps,

one songbird calls to

a white-winged friend:

“sweet-sweet-sweet”

and feeds her slick babies

black beetles and yarn.

…

What was once

dark was gray

after became hope

wanting to wind

its way down

to the ankles of

Carlisle Mountain

and lap at the feet

of the widow who

longed for that fat

girl Sanne to return

home and lie about.