Christmas Rush

Christmas Rush The sun was blood red looked like a big wound on the flank of an elephant shot by poachers. It dripped blood on white, woolly clouds which slowly turned red as the bandage on a fatally shot soldier who slowly died as his eyes turned into a mirror of the cold sky. In the town, air is torn into puffs of powder as a red ambulance comes to an abrupt halt a man on a dirty floor surrounded by presents for his family, his eyes reflects the absurdity of a Christmas decorated supermarket- his widow will be handed his gifts- As I drive home a bag of night opens and strews its soothing darkness over the land, but nearby an anguished elephant still trumpets.