Moggy’s a dinkum, fine upstanding cat; Purloins my steak fast [the drop of a hat]. Cats howling at night, a feline chin-wag — My cat [my moggy] pursue the ball, “TAG!” To be a dinkum goes against the grain; Being an “original” can be a strain. Dinkum Moggy studies the night’s shadow. Purloining the nuance made her mellow. This cat, a rare dinkum, slept in my lap, While running through the woods, Moggy’s dream map.
Burn is a small stream in Northern England.
On its eroded banks did Warriors once stand?
Can we say a bird’s burning its bridges?
Deserting one’s nest for newer “britches”?
Chasing prey through the woods, around the bends —
This cat’s burning the candle at both ends.
The Great Horned Owl who flies both day and night;
Burns the midnight oil, what great eyesight!
I’d like to sit near that ancient stream, BURN,
To dream of my kinfolk, hoping to learn…
The gray nimbus cloud BURST and the rain came.
Can a wrenching human sob be the same?
Two angry cats circling each other;
Potential cloudburst of rage, oh rather…
A thin man ran, his breathing a cloud burst.
Is a dog panting a symptom of thirst?
Cloudburst aptly describes our bad living.
Problems percolate until we’re seething.
Small wrens singing, cloudburst in the bushes;
Riotous Joy [!] in my psyche, wishes…
Squirrels run through the woods, understory; a Hawk perched, precipitating worry. What is in the soul’s the understory. Shadows in the mind are sometimes scary. Flutter heart — understory — chirping bird; poised — nest edge — takeoff, flying, ideas stirred… The cat’s understory is the head butt; lean against each other, communicate much. The understory of tumultuous rain aftermath’s rainbow, a releasing of pain.
A large red-tailed hawk swept across the lawn. The squirrel vamooses, going, going, gone. Rabbits vamoose by leaping oh so fast; But then stay still, a silence which will last. “Leaving” is simple, when you’re relaxing. Pretend you’re a stream forever flowing. Birds peck a seeds then FLY into the air. VAMOOSE if a nearby human doth stir. When one nervous cat growls and bats his tail, The other shy cat will vamoose, never fail.
Line up in an orderly fashion.
Pigeons on rooftops, would-be assassin[s].
Like the wind sweeping across the tall grass,
A flock of gray pigeons rises “une masse.”
Thrusting his chest out, the male pigeon strut[s],
Negotiating a harem and such.
When I hear the cooing of the pigeons,
Is it many or just a smidgen?
Those pigeons perched on a telephone wire,
Are sitting in judgment [silent conspire].