Delicious decay

Amid the blackened thistles,
the frayed leaves,
the stealthy fungus
and the last white daisies.

Amid the crow’s squawk,
the osprey’s peep
and the maple’s creak.

Amid the dusty bark
and the rotting log.

There is the scent of decay.

And then a mouse flits across the road.
Like a living ghost.