4.87 Miles from the Airport

It is not night here anymore.

Those Praying Mantis eyes recede in the dark, running backwards in a smooth line across the sky.

Blip. Blip. Blip.  A little ruby mouth touching tongue to night.

Delicate little sips of cold air .  A flashing gulp as he scurries home,

Shuttling small bodies in a steel womb.

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~ by SimmerSnow on December 29, 2011.

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