Aug 122011
The cocked rock which
now is stiffened
was once, believe me,
supple mud--
jeweled dragonflies
sipped at it ferns
lifted intricate fans 
in the paleozoic breeze
just as, all elbows once,
I had played in mud 
puddles with my prized
avocado-colored ball.

How then came the rock to
crack, condense
and become this
crumb of death
held slightingly aloft,
the breeze still biffing fresh,
(slightingly, slightingly)
in the agile boy's sling-
shot--dead-aimed at
a grey unstirring squirrel
creasing his teeth
on a green acorn?

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