In the gaping hole left by the tree that had died
Perhaps years ago, but we kept telling ourselves
It needed more water, its root were still well
The two crows that sat atop the dried pines
Have found a new home, while I struggle in mine
Free they were, to flap their wings and move on
To build a new nest, new day, new dawn.
Yet I sit by myself, here alone in my den
A few blinking lights, stack of papers, a pen
Typing into the wee hours, a familiar path
My mind is lit up, but my thoughts, they are dark
On a path we fear to tread, but love all the same
It feels like twenty something all over again.