Serrated Sky

I walked past a homeless man, a derelict human being with deep lines cut into his forehead as he slept on a fractured sidewalk beneath a blue, threadbare tarp that snapped sharply in the breeze.

I quickened my pace, shuffling between the broad shoulders of two abandoned buildings looming over me, their skin of cracked brick and broken glass an echo of possibilities negated and forgotten.

I glanced upward.

Serrated Sky

There they were.

There they had been.

Hovering high above me as silent witnesses to the muted madness far below.

Photograph and Prose copyright Mike Yost 2016

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