Saturday, February 9, 2019

good night

"Goodnight, Son".
He reposed his head deeper in the pillow. Outside...the wind crackled a dead limb, snapping it clean off a giant tree where 3 startled sparrows, Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod, lighted and circled the two-storied bungalow twice, pausing briefly in respect at the shuttered window ledge of the barren room of grandma. They were joined momentarily by swirling fireflies dreaming of Summer. The dream was over, fireflies accept that fate in life and in death. Nod, with broken wing, trailed the others and settled once more in the nest of the rotted eaves and called in the night.
"Goodnight, Mama".


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