Beneath the branch bouquets 
of a fenced-in oak,

A bobcat stalks a neon man, 
some exotic bird.
 
But, there is no threat of death,
Nor of nature’s hunt.

They are neither predators 
nor prey, just actors

in progress’s tragedy.
–
Were we home before?

Above, a searchlight moon
Flicks on, shining down

Accusatorily on
The construction site.

In this solitary light,
The fenced-in oak weeps,

Sprinkling acorns
Across the razed land below.

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