NaPoWriMo #3

The fourth NaPoWriMo prompt at Poetry Thursday: yield

Yield

The rock to the water
the cement to the grass
the shell to the insistent beak
the carcass to the maggott
the bridge to the storm

the rose to the aphid
the aphid to the ladybug
the ladybug to the first frost of autumn
the frost to the noon sun
everything yields

if it were not so
we should all be stopped
in a single frame of a movie,
so let us sit a while and listen,
let us yield
to the soft flow of the air
filling our lungs, to our bodies
turning to dust,
to the approaching dark.