These streets are safe enough
for my children to ride bikes,
my husband and I to walk the dog
even in the waning light.
But each spring, I find shattered
blue eggshells scattered
along sidewalks, and in the yards
new grass shoots
up around a smattering of dead
rodents, mangled bones of birds.

I wonder what the robin
who sits high on the power
line thinks of this place, rampant
with baby-snatching squirrels,
murderous cats on the prowl,
even of a pair of vultures who appear
to pick apart fresh meat. How long
‘til his song becomes a world-weary
wail, lament for a neighborhood
gone to seed?