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  2. MOVING SOUTH TO OCCUPY

    A mantle of oak leaves lifts with the updraft
    like an unguarded skirt billowing to reveal
    gnarled and spindly trunks, brittle leftovers
    of the season’s turn, not yet rid of frost marks.
    Nothing to look at from where I sip my tea.
    Flapping vulture wings lend the fall wheeze
    a healthier sound, their cackling a strangely
    dismissive sneer as they fly towards tundra
    where they might yet find carrion of seals left
    after the hunt. Done with the hoarfrost, done
    with the hollow whistle of the woods, done
    with the walling-in poplar trees. Like nomads,
    they fly south now to store meals heftier than
    rodents and sparrows. Will they Occupy winter?

    — Albert B. Casuga
    11-04-11

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