The Dew-flirt

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…

Fine form

We lie low in the sun, flush with the furrows. Day dreaming. We all love stretching out in our forms, belly dry with whiskers fanned out. Ah, but running is when we really stretch. Throw our legs forward and around, striving to take off. Why do you think we love the Moon? Our dreams are…