An early
dark, instant
of rain, then the birds again

quicken,
and seedpods
pirouette all spring long.

The world’s
awash in whirligigs,
the mindless and innumerable

attempts to be
again, even if only for a moment
or terminally, a tree, even the last tree,

standing at the edge
of galaxies, twisted roots
rearing out into the starry void.Cameron Morse taught and studied in China. He is currently an MFA candidate at UMKC and lives with his wife, Lili, in Blue Springs, Missouri. His work has been or will be published in I-70 Review, TYPO, Otis Nebula, Sleet, Steam Ticket, Referential Magazine, Rufous Review, Small Print Magazine, Two Hawks Quarterly, and First Class Literary Magazine.