Crow calls, silver scented chaos on a wing, the first bird in our fable, servant of the eternal treated like a lesser thing, she has pierced the veil of remembering, sky-scattered ash, forlorn tales warning of apocalypse, past or forward-telling; projectiles of perhaps; of gross human failing; humanity’s mishaps, of greed, and taking, wings flap…
Becca lived with her dad, Jo, and her younger sibling, Jacob, near the city park. From her bedroom window in their attic, some of the remaining trees of an ancient forest seemed to spill into their garden. Everyday her dad would put Jacob in a toddler carrier on his back and they’d welcome the day…
The winter stretched like Ouroboran tail,
Thus, the rider sought the dragon
Iron Scale beneath her bridge
“we need your breath of fire
For life to prevail,”
The rider said.