Shadows of Hidden Things

A tiny clay mushroom glazed
And fired to reveal a forager

Apples left for Does, Bucks
Uneaten except for the bees
That swarm

Black crickets chirping
The sound slicing through
The night silence

The lone black and white cat
Flees for a safe refuge
His hunting forgotten

The river current time changes
As the coyotes respond in kind
howling

© Reneé Espriu

Photo is my own digitized as art

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