Thunder has an hourglass figure.
She bolts lightning from her armpits.
And rains in peace.
Male gods of thunder are very common (so strange), but there is one female one: Whaitiri. She’s a bit cannibalistic. (Thunder, lightning, the way you love me is frightening …)
Thunderbird could be a fine feathered female – strong X chromosome, at least.
In time for Inktober: Inkubator. Their logo isn’t even pink.
Knock on wood.
It needed a better search algorithm.
Apologies Emily Dickinson. Temperatures are dropping, and the squirrels and chipmunks know that their survival will be at stake.
Look what I found at the gym!
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no one wants to be a victim
or a meme
it’s the double down
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I wonder what nibbled on it? Not a holly blue’s caterpillar, probably.
Stroppy Shelf Life
The dead birch trees dream of Ötzi the Iceman
and of their pale youth
when a coat of green loyal ivy
shaded them from bulbous fungi
– not a shield from whipworm, a human problem after all –
One silver birch still stands,
stretched tall to the blue sky,
snug in the coiled embrace of fruiting ivy,
alive with bumble-bees
– or are they the selfsame carpenters that drilled their brethren’s polka dots? –
The winter cat awaits with polished claws
and snowy cloak, hidden in its cloudy paws.
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