Entropy & Blue Jays

        I wrote this piece on New Year's day, after the party that would have been, wasn't. Instead, I sing to myself, tell myself stories of futures and pasts that could have been. Singing only to the space of my Home, like Blue Jay outside sang to the smoke of my woodstove. Burning away years of photosynthesis for warmth. Such is the way life is...

Every point in the universe is increasing in
emotional chaos at a constant and non-linear rate.
The Blue Jay on the bough,
covered in fresh fallen snow,
tells stories of their childhood 
in their songs
to the smoke flowing from my woodstove.
Smoke cannot hear.
It is only what once was,
and never again what is.