losing the green

“crunch, snap, crunch, snap” then “ swish swish swish.” I’ve found the spot. My fingers crawl slowly over the coagulated gathering of matter with my eyes closed, trying to read nature’s braille. Finding all the different textures, bumps, and chips. I feel the heat from above quickly collected and eaten up by the surface I’m petting. My other hand rests on the cool hidden underbelly. There are stripes running through it, some squiggly, some straight. I could look at it and imagine a river map for unknown lands. As the light from above hits it, specks glisten back at me. It stays put when the breeze drifts by, bringing the smell of fallen fruits along with it.

ailurophile era