all that is left of the wind

my third time up the mountain today i see a whole tree
cradled in the arms of telephone wires.
the sun is sending out pink slivers from where its settling behind the mountains and
all that is left of the wind are the scattered pine branches spread across the snowy road and the innards of an overturned garbage can.

I pick up one of those tiny do not eat preservative packets, a battery, bottle cap, and an empty bottle of dishwasher liquid on my way home.