The Dawning

Reminiscent of an primordial
atmosphere, dark streaks of bruised
purple dominate the receding dark
of the night sky as dawn lays its claim
to day. A cascading series of whistles,
shrieks and groans tumble from
the surrounding canopy of trees.

In the distance, grey trails of
vapour and white mists veil the
mountain slopes Fear recedes as
dawn breaks night's clasp and the
sky's helmet clears to blue, revealing
a pitiless sun, swiftly drying sodden
green, soon to shrivel foliage in its
ferociously torrid onslaught.

Three hominids humped before
the embers of a fire laboriously
masticating feed on what their
omnivorous, rarely-satiated appetite
craves. Forgotten now their cowering
desperation during the prolonged
onslaught of thunder and lightning
threatening to reach deep within
the cold shelter of their cave to
deafen, irradiate and drown.

Another of countless survivals.
In the cowl of the morning they will
deploy to gather nuts, seeds, fruits
and seek the easy prey of small, furred
creatures whose bones their teeth will
grind to the marrow, sustaining them
for yet another day's existence.

Mid-day is the time to shelter from
the unrelenting fury of the fiery orb
that, sending probing rays into every
unshielded interstice, turns rocky
surfaces to infernos. Warm-blooded
organisms scurry toward sheltered
havens. That brief time between sunset
and the dismal, darkly-cold curtain of
night, another hunting respite.

Then the mellow light of dusk, swiftly
transforms to black; opaque reality
becoming nothing at all, as objects
vanish and cringing animals seek refuge
from fierce night prowlers. Cold descends,
fires flare, shuddering bodies cling for
comfort. At night, come the bestial,
life-ending predators silently gliding
on padded feet, quietly springing,
bloodily triumphant in claw and fang.