Silence reigned.
Nothing moved.
Six in the morning
The sun’s alarm wakes the world
No birds.
Nothing.
Keep walking.
It’s the end of the world
All gone.
All vaporized.
Only silence

Down Joan de Arc Street.
Atop the twenty-foot silver lamp post
With arching neck and steel gaze
The still Lord of the air and all he sees.
He’s teaching his child the ways of the world
The red-tailed hawk.

We all have to eat
The earth knows
The child, learning silence
Bobs his head low on the rooftop
Watching father.
The earth, fearful
Stays silent.

Look for the sick, the lame, the weak, the slow
The vulnerable. Worthy of the effort.
We’re cleaning up.
Keeping the world perfect.
Nothing yet. Patience. Use your eye
There’s time. The world is waking.
Nothing. Move on. Follow.
To the tall eucalyptus.

The hidden world wakes again
The air is full of noises
Rosy faced lovebirds squeak and chatter
Their relief in unison
So good not to be breakfast
Starlings whistle franticly
Mourning doves resume their sad laments
Finches flutter in the hedges
A Gila woodpecker finding it all a joke
Up in his palm tree
Looking down an everyone
As he sounds the all clear.
Time for breakfast everyone.
Lesson in survival over
Until tomorrow.