Stompy
Day’s brightest star alights upon the ground,
breaking the horizon.
He wakes;
black mane, tainted auburn,
sheening as he snuffles, shuffles,
sniffing at an empty bowl.
Stomp and scurry,
rip and nip.
Attention seeking, paper shredder;
digging.
Hoping, such to burrow out
and munch on tender seedlings.
Standing alert,
twisting his ears,
able to descry the faintest sound.
That familiar, metallic, click of a key.
Flurried with excitement,
hopping back and forth,
leaping joy-filled toward me
as i open the hutch door.
Awash with faith i’ll catch him!
Snuggling, wriggling, climbing.
Rubbing his ginger chin in hasty affection,
lovingly licking my fingertips,
nuzzling into my neck.
Reaching up,
reacting, as my pursed lips squeak,
padding his sandpaper tongue on my chin,
as if to kiss.
He guards his run,
as, from a window, i observe.
Twitching his wonky ears,
listening for magpies and pigeons.
They land,
and with a bouncing charge,
he makes them flee.
Proudly springs in circles,
before settling in repose once more.
Shadowed by the shed,
from summer’s sweltering sun,
he scurries to unearth a cool channel.
Tearing up grass,
exposing damp, relieving earth.
Promptly hurling himself,
so upside-down,
before rolling upright.
Lounging;
his fuzzy grey feet stretched side-ward.
Watching, indifferently,
the day go by.
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