Owl hooting outside.
Puppy panting inside.
Another deliciously
quiet, peaceful, dark night.

trodding through trees,
Mother Earth
fresh and sweet,
twice this season,
twice so recent.

stumbled upon,
on the floor of the woods,
a pair of perfect wings,
not a feather disturbed.
only the very center,
the body,
not there.

a spine cleaned bare,
remained right there,
next to the
wings
of the penultimate one.

only silent space,
lying between,
each wing,
between  
each one.

oh what mysteries surround,
lying around,
not making a sound.
only for those who wander
and look,
and,
look and,
wander around.

"don't get old,"
whispered she.
"my love, my friend, my life."
"stay with me."

"i'm gonna miss you so, when you are gone."
slow tear tracing down,
arms wrapped tight,
kissing her with all her might.

her ******* shorted out.
so she flung it across
the room
like a
shoulder launched
cruise missile.

then,
there was a knock
at the door.

hastily pulled she,
her jeans up her legs  
about her *****,
wrapping long cardigan
about her for warm
as she went to the door.

opening it wide,
there stood
the most,
gorgeous hunk,
of a manly cowboy
her eyes were ever to see,
ever to set upon,
ever again.

"havin' a bit a trouble ma'am?"
"anything i can do to assist?"
asked he,
tipping his wide brimmed hat
so very
gentlemanly.

"why yes i am."
"and yes you may."
replied she.
"would you like to come in
and take a cup of tea
with me?"

hey!
you big fat bus!
with your big fat!
yellow bootay!
i say!
go on
now
get outta my way!
i say!
hey!
get outta my way!

four paws padding along the earth,
noise to the ground
snuffling scent.

curving in waves,
tracking a prey,
treasures appear
as we walk this way.

dark green and yellow
box turtle shell,
yellow head and hands
barely peeking out.

leaves quivering
high in the boughs
of the trees.

small little sparrow
grey and still,
lying intact on
the ground,
but for your
little broken neck
ringed in crimson.

pausing to lay
it to rest,
leaf for a blanket,
a prayer for the best.

water bugs
skating along,
pools of calm spots
where flowing creek travels
temporarily stopped.

later inside,
a tiny black dot
hurries by.

index finger poised,
finally lowered,
and so, now you are,
no more.

pausing to ponder,
is this ****** i've done?
is this what consigns one,
to hell,
when one's own time
is done?