| even in this | godforsaken place |
| there is stirring evidence | of life, like |
| the frog who came | just after the rain |
| and remains still | clinging to the glass |
| the lizards | beating a path to safety |
| rustling in the grass | outside my door |
| the squirrels | giving chase |
| playing tag | recklessly |
| in the street | irrespective of cars |
| and then there is me | alive, barely |
| running in place | depending on the day |
