Hello! It’s me.
Hold no power over me.
Only the feathery antennae
of a delicate moth
trying to flee
holds power over me.
Please come down.
Allow me to crush your menacing thorax
On our artificial lawn.
I promise to be brief, because
Your abdomen will be locked like a vice
Between my teeth.
I’ll remove the dust from your wing.
It might sting.
Limiting your ability to fly away.
Come down and play.
Then go to the light
And I’ll give up this fight.
For the date
When this becomes your fate.
Oh my, the bard hath joined with the actor and photographer to bring forth a delightful scene!
Poetry eh? How about this missive.
There once was a hunter named Dash
who sought out prey he could bash
One day it’s bunnies, next day a moth
what will I do if either gets caught
Chomp on their thorax or even it’s trachea
that’ll teach ’em if in my yard, I’ll breakie ya
So beware all ye pests who threaten my domain
a proficient hunting badger dog I shall remain
Goodbye for now, we’ll soon meet again
find me more miscreants, of that I’m a beggin’
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Sheesh! Now you are a poet. I think it was the leafy greens that depressed you so–I know you wold rather have had the sandwich. Auntie Janet
Yikes! That Arizona sun must have some scary effect on the canine cranium. A little Stephen King poetry brought on by the “green leafy mile”. I suggest more carbs.
There once was a pup,
Who did most like to sup,
On a repast of stringy white cheese.
When fed leaves at a meal,
He said, “What’s the deal?!”
“I would rather eat moths you guys, Geez!”