clouds dissolve
after pretending
to be recognizable shapes

and the twilight
woods untended
fill with life

I heard
the wings singing
of dry shell insects

they emerged
slender, undressed
to leave their casings

the apples fallen
their compacted
lush smell floats

a snapped branch
wind-whipped
cracks like a shot

the night has fliers,
glow worms
with pinpoint blinks

on a silken
web, still insects
we see die as a mercy

you sobbing
unbuttoning a
soaked shirt

and never find
where the children
we were are hiding.

– Royal Rhodes