dewdropping dapples, softballs of anxious fall apples,
falling freely, as the grass warms
under a merciful sun's
protective custody.
i can closely watch
the gray bird with red stripes,
so fat from diurnal hunting, as she
tugs at the stubborn worm
that clings desperately to his pinhole lair.
maybe his last thoughts
before becoming breakfast
are of reincarnation, rebirth
as that very same bird, confident,
unperturbed, swooping low
over both lawn and curb
invertebrates a la carte
as the dawn yawns, stretches,
attempts to give the morning
a fitful start.
