Dog sighs without a wink.
Reduced to silently look through the car window drifting in rain, wings stand highly black brown like an autumn leaf dried still.
The butterfly walks on the offered finger and rests a watchful little while before flying impatiently into the dim light of the rear window drifting in rain.
Dog winks.
Butterfly peacock is nearly out as it walks on the hand bringing to the door, opened by a human taxi in awe when seeing primary colours open up to misty cold freedom.
Dog puts nose on paw.
mole hills are
vole hills
There is no badger in sight.
chameleonian times 