out
from under the thick boards of the
porch, you rise
blinking in the early-morning sun
eyes a deep yellow
almost gold
filled with an intelligence i long
to possess
a knowledge of each grassy hill in the yard
the cricket's sound on a summer evening
the orange coat of a fox as it darts from
tree to tree
of all the wonders of the breathing morning and quiet night
when i am still melting in
puddles of dreams
