The yellow-bellied marmots
in the winter of o-three
Were dazed, surprised
And traumatized
At what they all did see
Their leader, Griffin, squirreled away
With clanking metal sound:
Rifles, revolvers,
“Problem solvers!”
He said. They rallied round.
“My brethren, come this springtime
When our hibernation's done
Wolf and beast
Will come to feast
But this time we'll have won.
The humans' magic guns will surely
Fell our predators
The hunter's fire
Is my desire
For we are warriors!"
As Griffin held his head up high
And waited for applause
The others praised him
Began to raise him
Like a god-like Santa Claus
But one young groundhog stood agape
Wondering in defeat:
“We don't have thumbs
To hold these guns...
And where's our food to eat?”
No comments:
Post a Comment