Why are you so sad?
The sun is out
And the sky is blue,
Not gray enough
To make you of
The same hue.”
To this he replied,
“I worked so hard
To store up my food,
I buried it in a
thousand holes
Said this sad little soul.
I can’t remember
Where they might be
I’ve dug everywhere
As you can plainly see.”
And yes there were
A thousand fresh holes
But no nuts to be found
At the top of each mound.
“How long has it been?”
Said I to this sad little face
“Quite a while “ he said
With barely a squeak,
“As I don’t remember this
Wood when I fell asleep.”
I said, “Your brother
must be Rip Van Winkle
My dear little friend.”
And I said as a tease,
“All those nuts that you buried.
Are now very big trees.
You’ll have nuts a plenty
But next time you bury,
And from one nut to another,
May I suggest
With not as must jest,
You make an extra large map,
And mark each hole
With a very large ‘x’!”
In the meantime this dear little squirrel won't have to put up with my poor prose, as I keep filling up the feeder in which to bury her nose - ahhhhh!!!!!
And patiently wait I for the little birds to appear, when squirrel has had her fill for never fear, she will be feeding her own babies in the spring of the year.
Welcome to one and all to my feeder I say, room enough to go around on this kind of day.
And now I leave so that you can stop your groaning, I say. Denise is feeling better and will be out of the house for the rest of the day.
The sniffles have almost gone, no more time on her hands to mope, for there are lots of lovely things with her camera to be found, now that she is no longer cabin and fever bound.
Oh boy!
Prose over and done!
(This is one from a while ago and though I was under the weather at the time of writing, I am perfectly free of sniffles.)
