Perhaps That’s Been the Story of Life

just as I will miss the full spectrum of sunset shades
when the leaves return to the trees,
which I can see now only so far and bright
laying a creamsicle calm over the city
because the branches bare
because the winter persists
just as I will try,
on summer evenings to find a better view
at a head tilt or upon a stool
until autumn wind clears sight lines once again
the fever runs its course on my body.
and I sweat and swear and struggle
not to check the news over and over
I wonder if the squirrels curse the branches
for getting thick with sap and overcrowding
their hand woven nests with complete disregard
I wonder if they struggle with the same upset
knowing bushy tailed or disheveled
they can’t change a thing