Bones below

Four child hawks and one mother.
The mouse feeds them and my dog finds the tiny bones below.
Treats for one looking in low places.
A watch delivered for simple timing. Every second counts. Memento mori.
Frames to box in the past and show symbols of possibility.
Voltaire was so yesterday. Enlightenment tapping on the shoulder.
Today it’s face forward – no historical figure mask.
Just hawks in a perfect tree.
Bones on the ground.
Dogs and gods collecting all.