Tree by Wreck

It throws us every time that
Other lives, not human lives,
Carry on as usual

At the edges of our deaths.
Sometimes our catastrophes
Bring many of them with us,

Suffering domesticates,
Mostly, most often housepets,
Perhaps anthrocommensals,

And we bring death down on them,
Daily, frequently, without
Apology. Still we’re thrown,

If it’s some of us dying,
To notice some of them still
Carrying on with living,

As if we didn’t matter,
And how could we not matter
To the magpies and the bees?