with those stone-still cottontails,
castled behind the fattest gray squirreI
pawns I've seen this side of winter.
The knights, of course,
would be the leaping black cats
who bolted blindly through yesterday's rush hour,
played against the big orange tom chasing them.
Two arrogant crows for swaggering kings
and one pair of brown wrens
beaks upturned
preened to queen over all
would complete the enchanted
faerieland field of battle.
No comments:
Post a Comment