the eyes of alder

quietly, a sentinel
with arrows of yew
hangs over the bank
and an empty creek

once gracious, once glorious
now scabrous and crusted over
haggard
sagging

a water strider breaks the surface
dancing under calcified glare
he’s wincing, eager
a sharp revolt against the dead and blank

on low sun, he rests
wonders at the calculation of volume
asking how many how many how many

the eagles are circling towards a pale, electric blue
seeking anger
seeking thirst

you and i left alone alone now
with powdery, dry bark
weeping dust
the krak-krak-krak of carpenter ants
a home halfway down the road to desiccation

the water strider goes wandering, a pressured spiral
then licks raw kelp and sugar crystals