Coconut Grove bird song

the blood stains had long since crusted over, yet he breathed as though it had just splattered across his maw. heavy. shallow. his chest burned. only now where the earth met the sea did he slow from his run.

held tightly between yellowed teeth was a pound of flesh. a day beyond its freshness. a week? time was a concept lost on him.

he carried it to the edge of the shore, past it, and walked the line in which he could be swept away. his grip slowly came loose, and the meat fell and bubbled in the salty water.

anguta, lómion whispered the heavens. tears welled in his eyes as they returned to his offering. swallowed by the sea, a trail of red left in its path.

when it had disappeared from sight, the man would return to the shore to tend to the wounds above his eye. a choked sob bubbled from his throat as tattered paws touched frigid sand.