Chewing

Chewing

The shed shudders

against teeth 

the color of marigolds.

Calling card quills 

dropped

near the snipped wiring

roll like soda straws

between fingers. Nearby foil

bright as sunlit chrome

passes 

through bear.

Like a shiny cipher it’s read

by rain

and stone

and stars. Listening

the trees answer

with another season, this one

in yellow rustle

and leaf sigh. It isn’t easy 

to cease growing

to allow what won’t make more

to matter.

It isn’t easy 

to surrender what’s become

to what glows 

within. The World

is so

hungry. The World will 

consume every

thing 

like bear, chew every 

thing

like porcupine 

because in the world of everything

everything

is food.

Still, trees make

patient teachers. 

In the night, under a sky as smooth

and dry as plastic, the sound of

chewing 

is deafening

but only 

in a World filled 

with empty things.

All around, leaves sing of

light

flaming like jewels. They fall

becoming everything

feeding the world

they never leave.