Hour by Hour, Things Shift Day to Day

At peace, with no point to me
As I am in the scrub oaks

On high ground, with no one here
But us words to speak for me,

A skull in the stones and leaves
That glows and has kept its teeth,

I would stay here, if I could,
If I weren’t called back to life

Soon by low sun and the claims
Of a few more lives on me.

Oh, what is this for, this day,
These hours in the light and wind,

Free for a pause from all claims?
If it were the soul who stayed

And the flesh that left for good,
But no, the bones stay to turn

To stones, stones to moss, and moss
To wings teeth like these may chew,

While the wave of who I am
Goes not to come back, and ghosts

Of small words, light on the wind,
Are what will roam to haunt you.

Sink to the ground and turn green.
Look for us, caught on barbed leaves.