Passing

Clearly dropped
and otherwise,
the remains of what was
draped backwards
on a branch
in the misty
morning woods,
nothing spared
but bones.
Macabre perhaps
but fascinating
enough to
step deep
into the thicket
for a closer look,
a prayer of passing,
and conjecture
at the what and how
it came to be there.
Wonder at the mysteries
we will never solve –
how its life force left
and indeed
how might ours?

Photo and poem ©2018, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, then check out my book Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind! BUY THE BOOK TODAY!

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