prelude raze two jets cut lesions in a gold sky, breathing slow and heavy through their backs. one long white line chasing another. a cardinal croons in the distance. two black-winged aviators make harsher sounds close to home, playing out some star-crossed courtship ritual replete with whirs, clicks, and caustic chirps. everything above ground has something urgent to say tonight. five pellets of squirrel shit rest beside me. a fecal floral arrangement. the pen a pissed_off peddler left here years ago has gone, taken by the wind or some sad sack with words in their warped heart. the last of the dark foragers scours the longest branch of a dormant tree for signs of life before disappearing behind a house with a green roof dented like the face of a non-slip bathtub mat. now watch the world turn out its unshaded light, and hear the soft sigh of another dying day. 230410 what's it to you? who go blather from