Making fire in the pit
breaking branches,
clearing dead wood.
I stood rooted.
The wind took heart,
with a breeze up her tail
she flinched, danced, drove
Scalextrics round the grass.
Smoke took my sight
so i felt
my way round
the potted plants.
Ruffle and flicker, a blink a, soft whisper,
could it be?
a bullrush?
ah-ha little kitty, I have your tail in my palm.
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