truth

As a burnt sun
through an oaken leafy sieve
dapples concrete
black on red

The bristly line
shadow boundary
casts off
one

By winds, gravity
time plucked from
the gnarled
umbilical

Golden brown
a fat black bird, jagged-winged
flies lazily
over crimson ground

Another
a savage gust having ripped
through mother

And another

rough-hewn planes
flitter down
dry soft-crackling rain

The luckiest
find a scraping touch
on the journey down

A second maybe
friction and chance
a bond seems

Overlap distorts silhouette
the odd conglomerate
of two
pauses

A short moment
in crimson light
then rest