Poetry

Those lost fauna

I can step into the shadows of their skin and feel

the warmth bound through me,

the earthy closeness of those burrowed days

nostalgic and pure.

The rains come and nourish the ground,

and when the skies clear to leave me

alone on the grass,

I whisper their names to keep them alive

for another year.

Poetry

Feline Judgement

Her tail flicks as she saunters past,

nose aloft and green eyes

avoiding my gaze.

The delicate scent of catnip

I purposefully misted on her bedding

gets only a single sniff,

and the square fishy treats

no more than a cautionary lick.

I suppose that’s all I deserve,

having been away

for two whole days.