We

The greening of the eyes move too soon across the field where sight gives way to blinding sun. A hawk sighs along a pocket of warm air moving above us. I dry the cautious tears let fall by a heart too heavy to bear the weight of two. The bluing of the sky mourns the loss of the heaven's bright protector and pulls a blanket of stars slowly close for comfort. But the Creator's food chain is only as weak as its strongest link. And the soul of the gazelle moves into the spirit of the lion for one loose stone-- one off-balanced hesitation. The blacking of the night marks the winding path of least resistance which proves to be more unlucky than not. I smile. We: are like animals in our king-size quilted ocean of aggression; like humans with our self-conscious suspicions; and, like gods in our gently compassions...

12.16.1996