Redhawk Caldera Heartsigh.

lol'd a bit writing this

tawny lark squealed, a warm little bean,
her fur still damp but soft and clean —
from supper’s smear to mother’s tongue,
she wriggled wild (still barely young).

each swipe brought snorts and tiny kicks,
her milk-round belly doing tricks,
and when mom brushed her tiny rear —
a sudden pffft! sang bright and clear.

the world went still, her paws froze tight,
then came a wiggle of pure delight —
a happy chirp, a wobbled start,
oh, how proud she was to fart.