she is ladened with dirt, specks of soil and muck dotted across her face and forelegs as she tilled the hard earth beneath her paws. the ground is chilled with a winter's frost, making the excavating of her half-formed garden a morning chore.
but she is singing in the work of it all, songbirds joining to chirp pleasant tunes as she continued to cultivate the soil. slowly, as morning turned to noon, the beginnings of a plot began to take shape.
roots slow her labor, and it is on one that she snares a claw. a startled, "oh," escapes her as she lifts a foreleg to investigate her newfound hangnail.
but she is singing in the work of it all, songbirds joining to chirp pleasant tunes as she continued to cultivate the soil. slowly, as morning turned to noon, the beginnings of a plot began to take shape.
roots slow her labor, and it is on one that she snares a claw. a startled, "oh," escapes her as she lifts a foreleg to investigate her newfound hangnail.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Messages In This Thread
beatus ventus - by Velia - Yesterday, 12:57 PM