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MorphHe pinned the butterflyto the card,the dry rotof blue wingsso profoundand loudin the warm room.Under glassit seemed a stranger,not the imagounfolding in the jarthat dreamedof the wet season,but a legless pupacommonand forgettable.
WinterA dream of silver coins and gossamerof frankincense and sacred myrrhtugging, gently tugging at the coverletthe draperies drawn,the candles lit.Winter's wizened face and beard sent packingby the blazing willow loga'crackling, gently crackling in the fireplacethe shivered windleads on apaceThese dreams to warm us lingering like a balm,and cider mulled with cardamombubbling, gently bubbling in a bowlblots out the windand shuns the cold.
Catcat -nappingon the chair -black crescent moon.i like how your fur glistens in the light.in your dreams you are chasing beasts again.mighty hunter,catching andeatingmice.