The In-Between

Owls fly back toward the dark. I hear the phantom tread of first light, the tramp and scurry of predators and prey passing, this way and that through the in-between. Those who watch from the hidden camps, of hide and seek, listen to a broken silence, as it transpires to a tangible skin of green noise. A pre-dawn walk ends in a parking lot, listening to the rustle and whisper of a creeping camouflage of violence. As sunlight emerges, a rising sky promises, one more lovely, and dangerous daybreak.