Music in his Ears

{edited} Nature knows what goes on in the night.

The sky bleeds –
Blood leaks through the dawn,
seeps into soil
erased from sight –

Three days after Christmas
a man walks back to work,
to the droning routine of life.

He doesn’t hear the keening lament
of a wren perched on an oak branch,
nor taste the bitter tang of iron on his tongue –

With music in his ears
he doesn’t hear the wind howling;
how it bangs against windows,
whistles past lit homes, empty roads.

Nature screams betrayal
on deaf ears.

I will remember a smile fading
with her last breath.