First Light

First Light

Dizzy with the turning of the world, as the sun comes blazing over the horizon. Mist still in the dips of the field, crows perch on black-clad bales or paint calligraphic marks across the sky. Snail trail, a long silver ellipsis across paving slabs, bumblebees already in the poppies. A chorus of cuckoos, blackbirds, woodpigeons, all singing to the sun, seeing it for the first time. the world turns a little more and the sky is washed with gold— everything is new.

Run

Run

Rat-like in the sterile space, you want to run, to go under, through, away, claws skittering on spotless, slippery floors, scent of hospital on your fur, disinfectant and despair. You will escape this maze they trapped you in, despite locked doors, windows that barely open — you’ll chew and chew, finally slip through to return somewhere dark and earthy, full of warmth and life, animal and free.