They're outside Forlorn calling in the distance Reminder of the wild It still exists In honeybee and wildflower Encapsulated within morning dew Or collected in spittle Between battle I hear them now Swept up in packs Of one or two Collecting Scraps enough for survival & If lucky enough Another bit for the road


It's somewhat spring like, Tending to the garden bed, turning overLast seasons dirt with bare hand and trowelRemembering the difference between lettuce and That-which-does-not-belong(I don't have names for them yet) Under fading sunlight the landscape has changed, leaving behind discarded remnants of invasive species

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