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The Furry, Feline Thing

It was a butterscotch dusty morning
And the rain had packed it in
Slapped it down with a cold wet hand
As if dryness were a sin

The leaves were drenched in dewdrop jewels
That shimmied in the breeze
Then vanished beneath a hungry sun
Imbibed by thirsty bees

The clouds all sported new spring clothes
Of fluffed-up cotton lace
While starlings wheeled and soared and spun
In a neverending chase

A soft green mantle embraced the hill
In a fuzzy emerald ring
And through that quivering, soggy sea
Squished a furry, feline thing

It shook its paws with every step
Disdain written on its face
As though to brand the wetness there
As criminal and base

It halted right before me
Stared with eyes of emerald flame
Then turned its head and flicked its tail
And went back the way it came

The day turned into chocolate brown
That faded into grey
As night unfurled shadowed wings
To flick the day away

More about this author: Routt Bryant

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