The bunny soft glow falls languid,
seeping into the fibers I so tenderly draped
over the prostrate ... [+]
She slept on the worn patchwork quilt
of the sky.
When she woke up,
she dreamt that her house was flying,
that a witch rode by—
past the clouds, on a bicycle.
Where was the air going?
The wind poured out from her eyes.