Telling tales, of walking in wild places, of painting, of sleeping in warm places and of mice and other things....
Monday, May 14, 2007
Because we have no wings.
Walking in the gloaming light the sky is dappled with cloud and not even a claw moon hangs yet. It is too early for moonrise. Above there are flying mice, many many flying mice, that shriek a song almost unheard, sharp noise that stings the ears. But we cannot catch them.
When first we started there were four of us, all ginger, and Max. Time has passed. The ginger pride are ghost cats, appart from Elmo. Now the house holds Max, oldest, tabby farm cat, dark, usually found sleeping on a cushion, Elmo, last of the Gingers, beautiful handsome and wonderful who still walks to the high hill top. And now there is Baggage and Bundle, silver mischief in sharp clawed kitten form. The adventures continue.
1 comment:
Thanks for visiting our blog. You 3 look like you are having so much fun. And flying rats? We have never seen anything like that before.
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