It’s all so familiar
How the shadows land on each leaf
How bright life sits just above its melancholy brother
The bugs are selective
So next door to complete wholeness
Lies a skeleton of a thing
Eaten to almost nothing
Perky stiff youths reach out
With shameless assertion
And down the road
Fat heavy grandmothers
Droop in the drowsy afternoon
“What’s the point” pointing them downward
All of them veined, straining for sun,
For rain
When a breeze comes, the whole earth shudders