The Robin Hood tree.

The Robin Hood tree.

Does the world stand or fall

On the snap of a twig

The tumble of a Sycamore

By the Roman wall

Stepping on

A crack in the pavement

Beating the bus to the next stop

When did the end begin?

When death visited

A grandma

Too soon

Before any conversation

Smoothed the way

For the meaning of finality.

Nothing prepares you

For the truth

Of Absence

The death stare.

If I hold my breath

Will the noise of a dripping tap stop

Before I die.

Will the sun rise

Even as life slips away

Do spiders never give up

Or is that just a fallacy

A metaphor

Of immense proportion

To the timorous

In need of a Grimm boost.

When the heart is heavy

The will to succeed

Is held by a thread

Easily snipped

By sharp-edged scissors

Designed for the right-handed

Individual

Wielding too much power

For the untrained eye

To comprehend its significance.

The umbilical

Is more than a connection

To the divine

A lost cord

Perhaps its cutting

Is the first indication

Of mortality

In a world of senseless acts

And meaningless intentions.

A tree is more than

A fixed-point

From root to branch

It is part of the family

And in its fall, a signifier

Of the fragility

Of life

The institution of death.