The tree has fallen
in the middle of the yard,
cracked to quarters
during last night’s storm
which played its elegy
then left in a rush.
The angry lover flips
land on its back,
leaves the earth a stripped
and stained mattress.
Rain has reduced a crab
nestled by broken bark
to a small shell
rotting in the midday heat.
Children gawp
at its glistening armour,
imagine its claws break
men like molluscs,
then piece its home together,
splint by splint.
A gardener finally
announces its condition
to stop them photographing
the battered form
anyone could have
mistaken to be sleeping