The Course 

All life falls
putrid
to the
forest floor,
or to
stream
bottom,
weighted down
by stones
rolled by the current,
daily farther
down.

Thus is life
flushed
from one form 
to another,
feeding the earth
or worms
or trees
or insects,
burrowing through
the richness
of decay.

Crucial,
no matter
how we fight it.
Botox and fine needles
cannot stop it,
only cushion
its footsteps.

As we are
pursued
like all life,
around the course
we can
veer
           off of
but never
escape.

Prompt words for the day are flush, putrid, crucial.