climate shock therapy

this time of year
(november).
where i grew up
one look out the window reads death
spelled by trees lining the street
starved to dry bones
and the birds have all moved on
following our last breath south.
i had yet to be alive when i headed west
all the way to california.
these days i follow my own winds south
like the birds
to the deserts
to a different kind of dying
a death that i can live.