Reading Between the Bytes

A dream of July

I was hunting
scarlet birds in a verdant forest;
each dart striking true.
Then the One
appeared
from behind a tree to my left.
Large and unafraid,
his muscular body
and curved scimitar of a beak
were taut and poised.

I pulled a chick from my vest,
fluffy and yellow,
flecked with scarlet
to lure the
large one near.

And he did come,
cocking his head
from side
to side.

I was suddenly
afraid he would
peck my eyes
and I awoke in a sweat
to the sound of
whippoorwills calling.