To Build Under Water
A Beaver’s tale
Right here,
I can stop, for a break;
In the daylight, I sit and wait.
On a bench, quiet and alone,
A cobbled path, is near its home.
When it rises, from the water,
To seek an aspen, as its fodder.
To chomp right through it, the little squatter,
And out a stump, but who did it bother?
Now the Woodpecker is out of a nest;
It had toiled, without a rest.
And the ants, they all protest;
The squirrels too, they do detest;
A simple beaver who stirred up a mess.
But would you come to leave such a clue?
Before the dam is fully true.
Would we meet right here,
in passing water?
Like the muskrat, mink, or the otter?
About the Creator
Delusions of Grandeur
Influencing a small group of bright minds with my kind of propaganda.
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