A tale of

Mishka and Agashka

When feather grass blooms in the wood,

And pink sage lights up the glade,

Out comes Agashka - barefoot, ribbon in her hair,

She laughs - and calls for Mishka to follow her.

He is clumsy-footed, serious, a character all his own.

She — slender as a rowan tree, eyes like poppies.

He brings her raspberries in his paws,

She gives him — a flower behind his ear, just so.

Together they wander through the fairy tale:

Through a haze of patterns and the whisper of branches.

He — warm and faithful.

And on that scarf — their very first ballet.

Carre Russe, avec amour