Pink and greys
attacking grass and dirt,

collectively, retrieving
evening sustenance.

Rolling over; up and down
they jump.
Peck, peck bing ****.

Sunscape behind four,
thin palms.

I anticipate it's colour, an easy
kind of sadness.

Shades of red present
themselves upon shadowy clouds.

I relocate, half way round the lake,
where it's less obstructed.

Above a dozen pines.
Courage dies, and I don't know why.

Tales shared of the depraved,
I keep true,

dismaying my
own sore, lossless cries.