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Just a little chaos, just a little mess.Author's Notes
Fur in the hair, stuck to your chest.
Sun is back with warmth, fur is far too hot
Snowies shake themselves, drop all the hair they've got.
Fur is in your food, fur is in your bunk.
No matter what you do, fur inside your trunk.
Fur is in the air, fur is on the ground.
Fur is in the water, fur is all around!
Comb them all with care, brush and rake and reach,
Fur is in the forest, fur is on the beach.
Fur is high in fluffy clouds and piling to the knees
Fur is high as mountaintops, covering the trees!
Exchanging little gifts; feasting, drumming, dancing,
brushing, raking, combing, all the stallions prancing.
Fur is in your ears, fur is in your nose.
Fur has somehow gotten underneath your clothes.
What's a little chaos? What's a little mess?
We'll weave some of this flying fur into a lovely dress.
Fur is packed for carding, for spinning into yarn,
Fur is safely gathered, to be knit and worn.
Summer is returning, and fur is brushed away.
Except for poor Dorje, we all love combing day!
A poem from the February 2011 Muse Fusion, prompted by Elizabeth Barrette.