TWIN FORKS Twin forks, a leafless silhouette against the sky. A resting place for wings too tired to fly. Bright eyed, cavorting possums, nightly bring, added strain to each dying, aging limb. How long before surrender, break and fall, no more a refuge standing stark and tall. And seen against a sky so blue by day, the skeletal shape a shining silver grey. One day these aged boughs will tumble down, to lie, decay and crumble, on the ground. No longer will I look, without regret, these branches then forever lost to me, and yet, not lost, returned to the earth below, to nurture seedlings, which perhaps will grow, and form another lofty haven, over time, to be seen by other eyes, alas, not mine.