the sound of the power wash from next door
reminded me of the presence of pterodactyls
from long gone centuries
                in the early morning they would circle our valley
                      searching for prey,
baby pterodactyls would mimic the flight of their elders
             they would swoop without reason

               we would hide all day
                       while    they hunted
                   our own smell          disguised
                                with
                           stegosaurus blood
in deep night we crawled among  low    bushes
        never moving a leaf or branch
                           foraging for left over insects and 
                             mammals
hoping there was enough for the cooking fire in the cave
             we had not been discovered
                    no human touched by the thrashing beaks
early morning came               we slid back to our caves
                   renewed our cover

all day as we slept
           we could hear the powerful wings flapping and soaring
we prayed to the fire gods            and the night gods 
                      for protection
                      from    extinction