A shrew, still young, but aging fast, took its last breath
On the summer solstice.

The insectivores’ short life span and the longest day
Of the year converge time frames.

Life sped through the shrew faster than the resurrection
Of a stillborn fruit fly—

The sun didn’t set. Tomorrow hovered on the cusp of
Midnight.

A transient paramecium, mistaking the shrew for the
Wallet of a millionaire, got its one cell stolen by a
Pickpocket surfing a fleeting twinkle of life.

A loan shark and an old maid elope, using the shrew
as a marriage license—

Bound together in expedient chastity, they bribe each other
With spinster dollars, having a steady appreciation in
Value.

In sand castles washing out to sea, old and young dust
Motes of insectivore beget tidal pool shrews, shiny and
Newly minted in a short breath of time replenishing itself.