NewsPapers and Taxis and Texts

I saw it in the trees, in the way they leaned and twisted
as if in agony, a warning I had missed.

And then the night it happened, our hollow tree in flames,
and firemen running frantic, like ants in frenzy’s games.

The signs were there, but I chose not to see or hear,
the patient pine that fell, the maple’s snap severe.

Now as the world transforms, and all around me shifts,
the yellow house dismantles, fence lines torn like fabric rifts.

Ponds become backfilled graves, cabooses turn to tanks,
eagles to vultures morph, and wild grass to tiled ranks.

In this world of change and flux,
I whisper to myself,

“I should have known,” like Emily,
my heart a quiet delph.

For like her, I too see now,
the truth that I ignored,
the warnings that were given,
the signs I should’ve adored.

:: 04.04.2023 ::