i.
as of tomorrow as of today as of right now we are lost in the woods’ brown leaves parchment paper grateful for the perpetual churning beneath our feet well aware of tonight’s frost warning more signs pointing to us maybe getting past all this
ii.
the larger issues of these particular times have been well
covered elsewhere but this year also overnight a black bear
ripped the birdfeeder from its wrought iron crook engraving
matching slashes in the greening copper casing
while a rat hunkered down in the corner of the basement
workshop taking to our stockpile of white rice and canned beans
showing up now and then only in our peripheral
vision so we could never be sure
and how the sickly deer drowned
themselves one after another
drawn to the lake
for fever relief
iii.
up on the meadow where the town’s yellow bulldozer destroyed the trees and shrubbery,
all the wildflowers I cannot name—
where eastern bluebirds and goldfinches bounced over milkweed and wandering butterflies rested before moving on
where once a golden eagle flew over me majestic wings beating
above violet puffs of chicory and ripe goldenrod
lifting me up into a blue sky
brimming with cumulous clouds for a moment
do you believe that
there was a knoll by the old silo where I could stand and face
a certain direction
inhale
become restored
well they have flattened it all
for a soccer field complex
they’ve been working on for months
running a generator early in the mornings that vibrates through the walls and my pillow
iv.
everyone is letting their hair go gray
bruising their ribs
shrinking away
v.
I go to the woods
to look for reassurance that time
is passing all the while
echoes of golden wing-beats
thrum against
my ear drums
my companion these days—one dog
or another.

Susan Barry-Schulz is a licensed physical therapist in New York. Her poetry has appeared in The Wild Word, SWWIM, Shooter Literary Magazine, Barrelhouse online, South Florida Poetry Journal, The New Verse News, and Panoply among others. She is a member of the Hudson Valley Writer’s Center and lives in a small lake neighborhood with her husband and one or more of her three adult children. It all depends.