All the Birds Are Leaving  #79

I am learning
more

not to compare
anything

to fruit,
especially time

which arrived
before us,

ripe
& arrived

ready to leave
the vine,

almost an oil
already,

we were born
mid-flight

in a bath
of spoil,

but that’s why
I am learning

to love
everything,

even as it turns
into the smell

of having been.

All the Birds Are Leaving #80

How tremendous
the fury

of the dial
that was turned

many times
before

& that now,
we are counting

as an animal
we can return

to spring
& keep there

forever.
Ding. Let’s

begin again.
This time

was my time
& there is no

cold wine
that can extend

my meal
into the next.

All the Birds Are Leaving #81

Skimming
for depth,
I ate small

parts of time,
tucked them
in my belly

& gave life
to nothing,
but belief

that appetite,
the behavior
of it,

dictates
less than
a mask worn

around
no holiday.
It’s something

to give into
when hands
are seasonal

demons
that shovel
light effort.