Every autumn

I’m impressed anew by the sheer inventiveness of death.

The rain comes hammering on the plush roof of the earth.

on the plush roof of the earth. After a while, it opens one by one its mush rooms.

Four months away

even the full moon isn’t
where I left it

unsettled sky—

studying the markings
of bark beetle larvae

bound tight

by a dead leaf—
cleavers

In advance of a flight,

I feel increasingly restless and unmoored.

still nodding

where the fisher broke cover
foamflowers

It staggers me

to think that I owe my existence to the most athletic among a crowd of sperm cells.

shadbush

pale as the memory
of shadbush

Grown old and grizzled,

you no longer have to wonder whether her scent is meant for you.

Flowers evolved as clickbait for pollinators.

You won’t believe what happened next.

jumping spider

pressed flat except for
its arc of eyes