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Under the Bed
They roam there, free and unfettered, bounded only by trailing folds of coverlet and bedskirt. For all their bulk and mobility, they are eerily silent, and when they make an escape from the darkness, they move quickly, borne on the merest breath of breeze. They are legion, and for all they share a name, they are not at all kin to that once nearly-extinct breed that roamed North America, nor to their Indo-African namesakes who toil in fields and brave lions. Their kind shall never die, never be vanquished nor exterminated.
They are the dust buffalo, and they are forever.
They roam there, free and unfettered, bounded only by trailing folds of coverlet and bedskirt. For all their bulk and mobility, they are eerily silent, and when they make an escape from the darkness, they move quickly, borne on the merest breath of breeze. They are legion, and for all they share a name, they are not at all kin to that once nearly-extinct breed that roamed North America, nor to their Indo-African namesakes who toil in fields and brave lions. Their kind shall never die, never be vanquished nor exterminated.
They are the dust buffalo, and they are forever.