Unaccounted

The glass was far too clean today.

The bird just hit it with a thud.

The neighbor’s cat came out to play

and left a little smear of mud.

They tell me that the plan is vast,

that every feather has a weight.

But everything is moving fast

and everything is far too late.

The sky is like a chalkboard screen

where someone wiped the lesson out.

The only thing that’s left to glean

is what the silence is about.