Haibun

Sun strains through the dense scrub oaks, flowing through the window. A thin sliver lands on the bed where the miniature pinscher rests. The sun’s strength diminishes, not quite twilight, warming her thin auburn coat. Her eyes close; she begins to snore. White strands of thin fur on her face. Sideways, her tiny paws form a bouquet. They twitch as she dreams. Her small fang hangs over her black lip as she breathes deeply. Slowly, the sun dances through the trees; the snow melts.

If moments could freeze

Sun through scrub oak kisses you

Soft sleep eternal