Vixie's stories

  The old man of Far Is this what we dare without seeing, Without being, our bare hands held up In a sunshine salutation, a gratitude?...

  Stones and moss   Stepping              stones                  a fragrancy of moss          stench of             moulten        ...

  Paws He has such tiny paws, Jet pads rough, soft, Show no damage at all, No wearing down Through the years, His intrepid escapades...