I woke up early in a pile of bones today. Flesh and bones. The taste of the cold breeze whipped forcefully through the crack in the barely opened window above my head and danced wildly on my uncovered skin as the low light of the nearing solstice sun supplanted the depth of the darkened room.

Settled back into full slumber after her three-thirty am journey out into the gale-forced winds of the waxing crescent I felt Tyne’s body heat at the back of my knees as I listened to her softened breathing accentuated by whispered barking, the soundtrack of her vivid dream-chase.

Bag O' Wish Bones © Ann Richardson • Dec 13, 2020