Telling tales, of walking in wild places, of painting, of sleeping in warm places and of mice and other things....
Friday, August 1, 2008
White wings, blue sky
Along the narrow green lane that leads to Llanferran, between high banks of bramble bushes that catch and claw, moths in the twilight, fill the air with their moon white wings, and brush against ginger fur,like a sigh, as they glance past and dance against the darkening sky.
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.
2 comments:
The note you got, supposedly from blogger, was probably spam of some kind, let's hope so anyway.
Moth dance, nice.
Post a Comment