Stone Circle Dearly

@Katla

“Feel that, Firefly?”

They were stamping their matching brown paws through the meadow, flowerless and green in this cold autumn. The air holds their breaths out in front of them in visible puffs. The sky is granite and cold, and from it soft taps that seep into dirt, ricochet off single grass blades, and tickle the dark ears of mother and daughter.

A muzzle raises and for a moment in this silence her eyes shut, “rain.”