Birds Sing While Bugs Rasp Legs and Wings

What is new is what is left.
What seems new is just what’s left.
What was new was what’s just left.

Take your flesh. Grab or hug it.
Don’t just watch it in the glass.
Most of it is new, what’s left.

Seize the day and size it up.
It’s new. It’s this day, this once,
Just this once from all that’s left.

Find a field, a yard, a park,
A trashed lot left with live grass.
That new grass grows from what’s left,

And that grass is what’s left yet.
All that’s new is what’s still left.
You just got here. You’re what’s left.