I Keep Writing Epitaphs

Last night, I snuck
across the pond
to the half-cut trees,
their slaughtered limbs
strewn across the yard
of the large new house
and listened while
spiders and ants
and caterpillars
evacuated, slowly.
I knelt below the
one last Maple
in whose branches
I once spied
turkeys sleeping
and I apologized
in whispers
that sounded like
midnight bird wings,
while my tears
collected in pools
around her sweet trunk
and we listened
as the stars departed
and the sun rose
and the marsh hawk
came to pay its respects
one last time.

Image: Google map of the pond and trees. Poem ©2023, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.