Little Muttmutt goes walkabout

Sort of written for the dVerse mini-prompt for OLN 354 “frequently the woods are pink”. The woods here only ever have any pink when the brittlegums’ bark turns a bit pink before falling off in spring. But I noticed a lot of pink centaury, a pretty but invasive weed, growing in the wetter cleared areas when I was walking with the little ginger-mutt yesterday.

Little Muttmut, dingo child,
raises silent clouds of brown butterflies
from their gathering places
in the cool shade under fallen trees
and rocky outcrops.

Last week’s rains
still trickle slowly down the gully
sewing a ribbon of greens and blues
in the grey-brown leaf-litter blanket
and filling rocky drinking bowls.

Trotting down to the open grasslands
where grasshoppers leap with a click and a whirr
Muttmutt springs and pounces
burying his head in tussocks
fluffed arse pointing skywards.

A confetti of pink centaury
speckles the open ground
where a thin layer of moist soil
nourishes their rosy invasion
of a seldom-used track.

Little Muttmutt silences the frogs
splashing into their pool
for a full-body drink
before shaking, vigorously
(and always rigorously head to tail)
and continuing on his way.