The crow lit on top of a telephone pole; that’s where the conversation began. The interlocutors were one dog followed by another in an alpha-male/female kind of way. Before you knew it, there was a sure-enough call and response. A riff steeped in deep yearning for communication.
Feathers and fur.
Who uttered the first word, again?
Seems like the dogs got this party started. The crow’s perching on the telephone pole brought up the curtain. A breeze stirred and wind chimes played their music. Sound was all there was.
The air settled.
The crow flew off.
Dog speech turned off all the way.
Silence was transformed by quietude.