With a hungry beak the vulture pecks at a blob
Of coagulated blood
No longer red.
The leaves turn yellow and then fall to the ground
Without a sound.
The russet shadows of the evening
Drape themselves around a distraught mother
Like a comforting cape.
She smiles
A crimson smile.
Quietly, the sky sheds its hues of blue.
In the distance the white snow on the mountains
Melts into tears

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