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.