Mammal Muse Thursday IT CAN BE SO FINE WHEN WE LET IT

Up here in the country of firs

we retire to the porch for tea and tasty tidbits by the fire.  Sometimes, one among us will read out loud, or the violist will roll out
a trembling tune.  Often there is silence, always laughter, almost never real meanness.

.

If snow falls like honey coating everything,

or winds howl carrying wolves up mountain where the game is good enough;

"Never mind the great big bad world."