Monday, 30 March 2015

Pterodactyl update

On silent prehistoric wings, he swooped past the moon and flitted between stars. Owls watched him with bemusement. Bats scattered in terror.

Pterodactylus belovedus.
He'd been to Tierra del Fuego and Greenland; he'd been from Bali to Siberia and back again. 

He'd had the best wasabi in the world a hundred times over, and luxuriated in the heady, soaring freedom of being a free bird on the road. 

But he missed his girl. Nothing compared to his girl.

And so he followed the juniper shadows until he found her. 

The night before the morning he landed, she was too preoccupied to see his pterodactyl-shaped shadow over the moon.  

Her sister saw it. Her sister saw him flit from juniper to juniper. Her sister saw him peering in the window anxiously. 

Usually lost things are just plain lost. Usually one has to take solice in such aggravating sentiments as "there's always another pterodactyl in the sea." 

But on some glorious, unusual occasions lost things are found with a little help from the universe and Amazon. 


  1. "there's always another pterodactyl in the sea"--good reminder. ;)