CALL ME BELOVED

Sometimes the cricket, waterlogged
in a puddle, eyes sunward, exhausted
and welcoming the finality of the sole,
legs thrashing, I will die singing loudly

Sometimes the cat, all suncooked fur
purring beneath fingers, waves of her
contentment circulating to your heart,
teaching that peace is what you take

Sometimes the backroad tree branch
voids of leaves cut out in right angles
by mail trucks, live defiantly, root deep,
you were here first; that sun is for you