This started out as a tanka and became a cinquain, a related form.

monarch

trains heading south

into the trackless air

dew on the engines that push them

onward

in an untelevised
feat of winter olympics
the gray squirrel's
split-second run
into a back flip

after so many rains
exposed and vulnerable
the roots
of a sycamore
grasping the twilight

I am like
the birds that fly
into windows
I mistake them
for doors that will open

I refuse to fall asleep
no matter what they give me
in the operating room
the nurse with the magic marker asks,
"Which eye are we doing today?"