is where something
used to be.
The grass straightens
after I pass—
relieved,
maybe.
My shadow
is not a harbinger
but a promise
that light
is still trying.
The crows wait
until I’m gone
to reclaim the wire—
not because they fear,
but because
they’ve learned patience.
I take no offense.
I’ve been
the interruption
long enough
to know
it’s not personal.
The world doesn’t owe
acknowledgment—
only room.
