She grew upwards

towards sun split skies

in a mirage of folklore and beauty

Her cracked soles

That dig the earth as she grows

are more like paws

pouncing on the twilight

Retinas scanning

and combing the ashen heather

ready to chase hare

and fly feather

tearing to shreds

any thoughts of violence

She’s as instinct as a dart

towards the smell of flesh

on a greyhounds tickled nose

wet and course

but soft and always gentle