A Wild Lesson

Beargrass illuminates the entrance to our haven
Valeria and columbine, a welcome extravagance
A Meadowlark serenade commences
Western tanagers usher us into the bowl
and the belly of our Hostess rumbles
As we enter
Her eager pallet waits patiently to sample

But are we worthy of this contemplation?
This consideration?
Weary wanderers with a broken compass
We have no voice left
But she begins to roars for us
We have no tears left
But she weeps for us
Lost souls
She mourns for us
There is a curious comfort here

Her touch, a warm caress that ignites my core
Turns furious
Her glare oppressive
Her snarling lecture, scathing
Her claws shred a reinforced panoply
As if it were mere paper
Her maniacal chuckle is
unwelcome and unnerving

When I come to,
She is not roaring or weeping or mourning for us
No, not at all
This is a tutorial.