Velvet-Furred Ferrets

At the ancient homes of velvet-furred ferrets.
A wet rain ponders black and fleeting laughter,
As the sunset quivers in the pond's water.
My heart aches for dancing - not weeping to the moon.

As the wind dwells in frozen anguish from wildfire.
A field of blue thistle emanates purple mountains.
As the pond reflects the dew drops of barren laughter.
Shall not the morning hold meetings on the home's demise?

While the mountains lingers in the water's gaze,
Will a wanderer dance to the mountains of cooled sorrow?
As a drifter dances neatly with cool enchantment,
And even the ocean merrily waves with velvet-furred ferrets.

The sun holds meetings on the night's woe,
While the wind bathes in harsh cries.
The moon lingers in black awareness of old times,
And blue thistle weeps with fermented ancient bones.

My mountain dwells in an intellectual dark hole,
As wet rain blows silver tears in lamenting creeks.
My mountain weeps with rivers of the fire's final glow,
Yet, infinity dwells in the dooking of velvet-furred ferrets,
Articulate with mysterious dark masked love.

Whilst summer dances merrily amongst bare-boned trees,
And day settles in the midst of weasel delights.
As autumn sun draws shadows of velvet-furred ferrets,
And the wind blows softly through the treetops,
While ferret nature takes a front seat in my life.