Sun is warm,
I like to play in the dirt. It is fun.
The camp life goes on around me,
Busy and familiar.
Quiet.
All I can hear today is Quiet.
But I can see birds hopping in the trees,
I can see the life around me.
The sun is warm,
Pleasant, unlike the hot fire that ruined the life.
Growing. Things are growing.
I can see a small dandelion,
It is poking out of a crack in the ground.
It is yellow.
Yellow like the sun.
Sun is warm.
I like to swish dirt around with my tail,
It makes my tail brown.
The dirt is brown,
Look up,
The trees are brown,
Some birds are brown,
That huge bird is brown.
It comes closer,
I think it wants to see if I am brown.
The bird is silly if it really thinks I am brown.
It is closer,
It's eyes are not so nice,
Not nice like the grey cat who visits sometimes.
The bird stretches out its claws.
The claws are large and black,
Beetles are black,
Ants are black,
Rocks are black.
Now the bird is reaching for me.
Maybe it thinks I am it's kit,
Silly bird.
And now I am going up.
Where is it taking me?
I am not it's kit,
So maybe it wants to play.
You will have to bring me home soon, silly bird.