POEM: Silent Forest

What’s leached the life from these lands?

Winter snuck in. True enough.

But that doesn’t mean a bird can’t hoot, caw, screech, or titter.

We may be too deep in the season for lizards to dart, or even schlep in tailless bluntness.

But surely squirrels, fluffy-tailed rodents, should be out, shoving aside leaf litter in search of sacred acorns?

I don’t trust my mind in a soundless forest —

it leads me to believe that I tumbled back into the recesses of my mind, and only noticed [too late] that I forgot to load the soundtrack.

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