Bare trees rattle their bones against white cloud sky
Clusters of leaves and twigs – abandoned nests – fill the in between
The animals have fled, birds flown
And all that remains are the cawing clawing birds of darkness
Large and black they clutch their prizes, crackling detritus, in the emptiness.
It’s strange to post something I started writing at home in the winter, now that I’m down south, but also kind of nice in a distant way.