Poppy day
They head in a
hasty evening
commute to the
Big Stump over
the gold vineyard
wind-up quail
nod-walking at
speed, now that they
suspect the glow
of eyes through the
balcony rail
might really be
Something. But her
hope of a quick
kill is fading.
Soon,spotted dog
lanky and tired
will sigh and twitch
dreaming of blood,
bone and feathers
by the night fire.
Poems