As
daylight descends,
beyond
the trees
church
spires are back lit
from
beams of the sleepy sun.
Shadows
are cast,
in
the garden
along
a known path
a
creature sniffs the wind.
Slowly
he hops,
towards
the remains
of
a voracious feed
scattered
upon the snow.
Wisps
of fur,
are
supply outlined
with
each moving muscle
as
he nibbles slowly.
Pooka
has returned,
for
the winter
he
will dine grandly
while
I stand guard.
Like this... Michelle
ReplyDeleteThank yee Michelle. I am partial to the creatures who come by even though they don't leave a tip, humph! :)
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