What I like
about coming out of the burrow
on my particular phase of the moon
is that sometimes you’re there, too,
baying at it, growing whiskers, etc.
about coming out of the burrow
on my particular phase of the moon
is that sometimes you’re there, too,
baying at it, growing whiskers, etc.
And not to think that I surface
according to your coming
nor would beat down your doors
if I were alone, but nice to see you,
old friend.
I shake off
some beetle shells, crumbling leaves,
ancient bones, most of the detritus/
impedimentum of the hole.
And thus it is that we dance,
some beetle shells, crumbling leaves,
ancient bones, most of the detritus/
impedimentum of the hole.
And thus it is that we dance,
not counting the provisions of
our separate burrows ― but you,
you are here, and how good to be
with you, here, under the moon.