In the falling shades of winter,
in the slipping of the veil,
in the greying throes of mourning and the wetness in the air
a silence whispered softly and resoundingly to me,
as I watched the tears of giants fall as mist into the deep.

Beneath my feet as I looked out
stood millions living there
Some parched and crushed by xtratuffs, now dying in the air;
beneath their lines of silence lurked the monsters of the cove,
waiting for the inbound tide to prey on those above.

Above them all, oblivious,
I cast o’er the glassy sea,
searching for those greedy ones who I could tempt to me.
But like the multicolored variegated predators below,
I was thwarted by the times and tides that better hunters know.

As I followed my own carnage
back the way that I had come,
print-in-print to minimize the destruction I would cause,
the raucous cacophony of airborne hunters circling the air
urged me on away from the feast I’d laid for them there.

Aloft myself in sunset later,
gazing down below,
I watched the gentle waves of spring lap naked on the shore.
I gently banked above the little paradise that I had found,
a soft smile giving all my thanks for my short chance to move around.

–Fox