Some happy cats? A field of weeds, drats. The color of sunshine And power to make it mine

I’m dug from the ground, to be ground up, then put back on the ground. I sound cool under your tires, but not so much in your throat.

In corners dark where dust may creep, A silken net where insects leap, A whisper's thread, In shadows spread, A home where tiny spiders sleep.

I Live on your face, all over your bod. On mammals and critters, Not fish nor cod. I Sway and swoosh, Yet not of a bird. You smell and see, and perhaps even heard?

I stand alone yet never lone, Surrounded full yet on my own. A dot upon the boundless blue, Or key that floats in chains anew.