Doves fill the air. They are so soft and pale as to be indistinguishable from clouds, yet they are there.

Doves and blackbirds and scarlet tanagers and golden finches and small green birds from parts unknown and to each her song. To each her flight and to each her song, to each her days and each to her nest or branch or cranny for the long warm night. The warm night breeze brushing velvet feel furry on the naked skin, the skin sparkles in response to the furry caress of the breeze the stars sent. To each her glow and to each her spark, to each her ecstasy.

Doves of the morning, doves and golden finches and small green birds and scarlet tanagers and blackbirds. Mourning doves, moaning in the morning, to each her song. Doves so so soft and pale as to be indistinguishable from clouds float serenely on the warm breeze brushing velvet feel furry on the naked skin; to each her flight and to each her song. Scarlet tanagers in flight, the eye the brush moves fast they brush the eye the eye flies. Golden finches, golden apples in the trees. Apples hop from branch to branch, following the sun, filling with gold and are ecstatically full and so, so the sun finds her night bed. To each her days and each to her nest for the long warm night. And the green birds rustle and hiss, they sussurate and vine from plant to plant, their hisses end in little shrill trills, they breathe the breeze to each to each they breathe to each her song to each.

The cats have claws which they sharpen on the trees. The fruit must be gathered. We will not always have this long warm night.
excerpt from deep may, © menoukha case 1998 •