Moontan (sleeping cat mantra)

Last night she ran to the woods in the light of the harvest moon. She wore her Nike shorts and
a grey sweat with a yellow bikini beneath which she had bought in a sale in anticipation of slipping away somewhere warm over the winter holidays. Paranoiac aberrations of a pursuing pack of wolves kept her from slacking.

Lazzy bear felt grizzly. Head thumping from a mixture of beer and wine dregs that he had foraged that afternoon in the picnic area of the woods on the north side of town. Winter would soon be here. He had to build a store of resources.
Strangest thing he had found today was some genmaicha tea bags. He laughed. Next thing he would be taking up meditation.

She slowed down. Distracted by thought. She dropped to walking pace. Deadlines. Always those final touches. She stopped. Rested her hands on her hips forming the shape of a trophy. If she were to take a selfie she would tag it, #pose #of the #winner #loser.

The bear was ambling along. He was heading towards the woods.
Perhaps there might some discarded chicken wings. Or maybe some more beer that college kids had discarded after some clandestine under age drinking binge.

The white rays of the moon were strong. Perhaps evolving the crazy notion in her head. She would strip off and lie down on the trunk of a fallen tree in the dell. What effect would the rays have on her skin? Would she end up with a moon tan or fall into melancholia?

Lazzy bear came upon the moon bather. Her torso draped on the dead tree. The relaxed body asleep looking pale and drained of summer sunned tones. Lazzy bear groaned but she did not stir. There was no food to be had. He sat down beside her. Maybe she didn’t know about the wolves. If he stayed with and protected her might she not reward him in the morning with a cup of coffee and a bowl of porridge. She purred like a sleeping cat. He would wait by her.

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