ARTelevision

once, sound was all above me
buzz of crickets, shrill cicadas
shook the trees

absent now
instead it's the sharp crunch
of insect bodies
mixed with acorns
beneath my boots

there’s old leaves too
one day they’re tree-bound and wind-rustled
and the next day they show up
down here

this transference
seems fraught with some meaning
that’s beyond me
like the warmth that slips farther
away each day

I know it is gravity
that does it
but it seems
much heavier than that

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