Red Tailed Hawk hunting the space beneath the chokecherry trees. A squeak; he has picked out his supper.
The hummingbirds nervous at the feeder; sip and seek, sip and seek, sip and seek the fleet shadow that’s kept them away and flying all day. The evil one is elsewhere, resting perhaps. Or they’ve fought back and she may be dead.
Life in the darkening dusk changes the morrow.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology