Parasite
A truck of some kind moans by on the nearby highway
Like the ghost of those who came long before me
The sky turns from cotton candy to cherry syrup to blood
An early owl wakes and starts to ask me a question
To which I have never had an answer
And a yet to slumber crow screams back
Answering succinctly for me
A small breeze tickles its way by
Gentle and teasing
Yet not as much as the buzz of encroaching mosquitos
As they herald dusk into night and more ominous things
They mostly leave me alone
Parasite that I am
Another truck barrels down the highway
Moaning ghost now wailing banshee
The blood of the sky drying out and becoming dark
I let out the breathe I was holding
Finally giving back to the world