The Silent Spark of the Fleece

In the icy quiet, where breath condenses,
and the hand rests upon the pulsing velvet,
a sea of electrons, hidden, is released,
as touch becomes a rhythm, an agonizing wait.

Not a cry, not a thunder, but a subtle shiver,
an invisible buildup that the weave conceals,
until the mute flash, the ephemeral spark,
that from the dense pelt reveals its strength.

It is a secret exchange, a voiceless twitch,
between skin and fur, a minuscule snap,
that unveils a fleeting tremor of arcane force,
unexpected energy, in an exact glow.