Mother and fawns.

Lazily lounging in the summer heat.

The shade lightens the sting of the heat spike,

Ears flick flies away,

Mouths chew at greenery.

Seamlessly endless nirvana.

A dream too good to be true.

Warm raindrops in a shining sky.

Wet noses and damp coats

Soak it all up while they can.

Green dewy grasses stamped into the ground.

Shiny hooves and watery lashes

Soon to turn crisp and cold.

White will plague the once lush landscape.

Droplets will turn to icicles.

The creeping thought of survival,

Overshadowed by the hope for next summer.

The pitch black interrupted.

Bright neon lights shatter skies,

Mesmerizing eyes and creating a pounding in chests.

Roaring crashes in the air boom,

Ears ring.

Fingers sting from mistaken burns.

Smoke looms in the thick air,

A sour gunpowder scent carries through the valley,

Streets wear the litter collected from the events.

The night of color is over.

The spindlying crawler of the night no longer feasts on the inferior,

Warmth is the only thing escaping it.

Hunting season is over.

The weak are picked off during the morning frost,

The strong flee into houses.

It’s up to them to decide.

Tapping into instinct,

The arachnids body either stiffens and dies,

Or moves and survives.

The flock is separated for show time.

Loud, constant, jittery.

The temporary coop bustles with movement.

Eyes engulf their view,

But flaunting feathers is over.

They now lay tucked away in a heat lamp covered shed,

Feeders and water bowls gorged.

Safety lies in the pen. 

Overwhelming and crowded,

The place to be.

Bustling and loud crowds seem to sway,

Lights flash and screams echo.

The sweet smell of cavities forms.

Vendors and carnies entice viewers,

Expensive trials lead to cheap victories.

A short but successful season,

Leaves faster than it came.

They pack up and disappear.

Until next time.