The Dew-flirt

on

A wall-eyed rascal,he.

Drunk on stars and comets by night,

Hunkered down by daybreak-

peering in to dawn’s blue fog.

Mottled with opals-dew’s blessings

adorn his thick fur. Perch between two black holes for eyes.

Beneath flexing paws the soft earth warms.

This dusty mister feels moles scrapings beneath him,

picks out scuttling beetles in the arc of a grass-eye view.

Hears engines splutter to life.

He stares back at hawks.

Sometimes.

 

Copyright Tom Tide 2018

 

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