Within the forms of the ledges and ridges,
threads of the feeble breezes tried to confer
and draw forth, as their explanation, an
acceptance through traveling with companions
who did not reject the powers of conversation,
held within the scenery and handed across
without any alarm or voice of awakened
hostility. The rejection was strong enough to
stay in sight as the hovering screech of the
necessary owl. Watching the bird, the
creature of the steps above the spiral arm
seemed to be at liberty to discover the gentle
voices swirling through the mist. While the
division of the stars proceeded to wash the
scaffold free of a slow moving controversy,
the remaining voices presented rambling
rings and the stripes of planets. It was late in
the evening. Swirling spots remained to be
counted, an expense that provided sustenance
to families of flowers and the wafted powers
of pollen as seeds with mechanical metal
threaded between one nebula and the next.
The waves tossed a small barn up onto the edge
of the mountain but used reassuring words to
surround the animals allowing them to travel
comfortably. Conversation usually included any
of the stars that were emerging from the
entertainment field. These had been packed,
carefully, with the necessary, spare parts and
albums filled with memories in photographs.
Frequent glances wore a familiar trail between
the shelter and the edge where moss cascaded
like rivers of joy moving among the banks of
grass, carrying the hulls, like fish, through
channels into the city. Acutely reminded that
serious people would be encountered before the
ages ended, the mice were nice and did not
tempt the birds into flights and attacks. The
exception to this was hunger which ruled the
loyalty of the rodent population. Any, of the
gathering, with reddish fur cast a shadow down
the stairway lit, as it always had been, from the
tremendous stellar flights that were lost, as
sparks above the dark chimney, the matter in
charge of all convection for a reasonable and
eternal distance into the mine.