the apple tree
and birds drop like windfall
fruit, ripened in tints of feather.
The rabbit shakes
restless in his fur
not knowing why he freezes
in the hawk's shadow.
Walking in the foam
every color is cooled
from a world that prefers hot red;
for one night, guns are silent.
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Flash Fiction 55 Plus
This month, Kerry chooses Zen for the plus--not much of a Zen mind or beginners mind in this skull, but I've written anyway.
Image: Nightvision, copyright joyannjones 2014