Holding fast against the pushing of the warm winds.
The lunar ox posing in a field.
No mother can live up to this such big eyes and hair.
Surface of a fragile metal plate.
She sits on a blue bedsheet.
Push forward as if the camera can see.
She occupies a horizontal world no legs required.
With a few snips a Mod is born.
Holding back tears or laughter.
What will hatch out of their warm heads?