It feels like everyone has been scattered around,
Living now in small pockets,

But when I look outside, it’s not quite true,
When I open the door of my little den,

In the afternoon light, I can see them all,
Whisking around the yard,

Sometimes in pairs, sometimes on their own,
But they’re all there, bugs and birds, shimmers of life,

I can’t catch it on camera, as if they’re of the fey wild,
But countless small things soar in golden light,

It seems so quiet down here, as if everything is closed,
It feels like everything is huddled, but it’s not,

Everything outside has dispersed,
Filling the space we’ve left for them,

The spaces that used to be theirs anyway,
Backyards now fields, butterflies and bees, birds in the trees,

My backyard looks quiet, an empty expanse of grass,
But in the light of the setting sun, I see the dispersion of life.