When the bough breaks
The squirrels scatter
Skittering across
To the next tree in line
Hedging their bets
With their form of god
The rain crashes through
Dancing leaf to leaf
Delighting the canopy
With its cadence
Lightning in the air
Thunder everywhere
Deafening in the woods
Where foxes take cover
Bedraggled as they are
And wait for the sun
When the bough breaks
It splits in half
And the gathering dusk
Consumes its jagged edges
In consistent shadows
Far from the maddening crowd
Of jaguars and bears
Who disappear for survival
Sprinting pell-mell
Into the underbrush
Like smokers on break
Waiting for salvation
As the lightning abates
In the gathering gloom
And these dangerous woods
Explode in divisive calm
When the bough breaks
The cataclysmic force of it
Cleaves the world in two
And leaves it speechless.
My Poetic Muse 