#dovesdanceatdawn

Poppy red blends with blue and purple. Moon tilts from rousing earth.

Early risers call to another ilk. Waves lap up nocturnal spoils.

Squirrels climb down from their nests, check their hiding places.

Bold yellows join orange and red, brightens blue, and sheds fading night and somber chill

ahh ! thank you !!

Blue and grey swirls on the wet sand do not deter the guests. The menu looks promising: sun-cooked meat and exposed bones.

Not all at once, they are not rude. Confident, they wait for their turns to pick a spot rich with nutrients, mindful of shifty crabs.

True colors form a tragedy disguised as too much. Heavy liquor steers a conversation beyond fair borders and warm bodies lying on sofa cushions.

Inexperience prods the naïve to disregard the change in mood. A shattered revelation curdles benevolence into hatred. A mistake transforms into projected harm. Carelessness with a slighted heart.

An old friend removed her face. She placed it on the table and filled it with candy.

We sat outside our comfort zones, occasionally dipping our hands in sours and gummy bears.

I thought it again over chats and slow nights. Considered its importance, picked it apart. 

Repeat and reframe until it sounds like a drizzle creating music on a metal roof. 

Sharp canines rip open thin layers of defense mechanisms and poorly healed hurts. A warm tongue licks life experiences until teeth stains red, and the stench fills the air.

Black-tipped paws press on my chest. Fox's eyes close; hunger pacifies a trickster. He eats his fill of me and my wounds, rips old scars to clean each pocket of the poison stewing inside for years.

I lean toward his cleansing and the grounding pain. The dinner guest swallows more of hidden spoils. Names I drowned in a dark pit where my memory will not loiter for long.

The fox digests hardened old dates, slights beginning to soften.  He samples sticks and stones forgotten underneath the gorge my subconscious built. He eats,

All the birds stopped singing at half-past ten. Autumn flowers curl and shelter their petals, leaves twist and hide against wavering stems.

Debris rises; trash and decay, loose gravel and earth, leave the ground to meet the stars.

The green sun flashes a warning call to the gaping hole in the sky. I grip tight to an ash tree. Its roots loosen,