In the dark, in the distance, the rag-tag black and white flags dancing around one
another, but low to the ground, in and out of the trees, rhythmic ribbons twisting
together, caught in a mid-summer night’s dream. Or no, too close to the Solstice
to be that far into the season. The heat, the reason for late-night strolls. Two such
creatures I don’t wish to encounter around the next bend on the gravel path. A fate
my senses might regret.

By the light of the strawberry moon
    a trigger warning