One Foot in a Dead Tree The Other in a Pile of Living Leaves

empty-nest_shutterstock_55599988

A misplaced step (if such things could fondle intention) my foot slithers down a branch
Decorated in foliage. Stripping leaves that teeter to the ground.
What possible symbol could flamboyant colors
Motionless-inside a corpse-marketed as a frame-prompt my decision
To climb a tree? This tree. A person could become idiotic
Distinguishing which decisions are made in the conscious VS the unconscious.
But regardless of maddened judgment
I smell shit floating from an empty bird’s nest.
Empty.
Does mother bird forget her brats
Once they leave?
Or does incessant chirping haunt her,
Possibly as she soars past a front porch located in the suburbs,
Spots a nest situated inside a crevice
Separating gutter from porch. Does she wonder if the nest is of her kin?
Or is there not even a haunt to be explored because memories are useless
Compared to instinct. “Mother bird I’ll be yr. child. We can explore the skies
In a permanent symbiosis.” Or is this the Curse of Autumn?
Still life portraits exasperated from the upkeep of aesthetic need.
No wonder the nest is empty. The preparations for death
Are always hollow-what else could life be?

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