Observing Tide

An angel looked dismayed as they were walking by,
In the morning light reflected off of pools of blood collecting flys,
Buzzards, vultures, coyotes, and the occasional hyena.
No longer to delay,
Awake another blood-filled day,
Out of the sea; the five heads of the beast were screaming.
No one asked for the heroes,
And thought of them as zeros
While they were fighting the beast that didn’t need exterminating.
Morning came again with the red tide.
So many fallen that should not have died,
From ignorance alone,
The beast called the sea his home.
And so will many more after this reading.
Cheers to the callous fools who have no feeling.
I do not often see red tide retreating.

Low Lights

Low lights speak your name.
The red and orange; no moonlight to dull them.
You wander nighttime streets through fog to see,
Or to not see. Why else by night?
A cradle of second sunrise,
If you make it you’ll be mine.
We shall see in time,
If these red lights stain your eyes.

Something Lovely

Red water flows,
And tumbling grows,
Becoming something lovely.
Within, life.
Without, night.
Carrying something lovely.
Red water breathes,
And carries breath.
Extending life,
Preventing death,
Though in between,
Something lovely.