April Fox

I can see it now
the place I'll take my final breath
under a sky turned verdant in the shade
where the dapple-light has long since given up its quest
to be the center of attention and the peep frogs are far off in the distance
time and space making their songs seem
low and mournful
in the springtime fog.

I can see the water creeping slowly past, tired of the things it's seen
weary of the cycles
rising, falling
always ending up
in the same lonesome place
feeding roots of trees that no one
cares to find
leaves and fruit doing nothing but falling to the forest floor
death feeding death.

I can see it, and I wait
an aging barn cat, withered and worn, missing bits of flesh
having long outlived
every single life
fighting for every scrap of peace
refusing to give up
until every last miserable rat
is just an bitten skull
between my paws
and the kittens raised have misplaced
all their memories of me and only then
I'll walk into the woods
and rest my head
to sleep.