Friday, December 08, 2006


The fog comes in on panther’s paws,
Splashing through the puddles as it lopes into the town,
Its hot breath hissing as it suffocates the valleys,
Sinking teeth into the silence as it wraps around the moon.

Muffling the lights and snuffling incessantly,
The ghostly panther pants as morning breezes rise,
The sun comes up, and people stir, mists vanish;
The panther’s supple shape dissolves before our eyes.

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