Tadpole's Outdoor Blog

August 27, 2011

A poem from grand-daughter Spiffy

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The Ailment of A Great Blue Heron

The bird I have in question,
Yes you often see,
He has a strange ailment yes,
It’s that he never moves or sings

He has not the bluebirds tweet,
Nor the ravens ca-caw ca-caw,
No robins melody, sweet
Or boastful crows guffaw

He only moves when needed,
He only eats when hungry,
But even then,
That’s only when,
Mere juices grumble in his tummy

His problem causes interlude,
Of worrisome discussion,
Scientists now conclude,
That he has a slight concussion

Doctors have investigated,
This particular cause for illness,
Some of them have estimated,
It’s because of too much stillness

But the question still remains,
Why the bird is so solemn and still,
Has God imposed on him a shyness?
Or ordered paste put to his bill?

Some say he has delirium,
Others say the flu,
But I know better than all of them,
I think he’s plainly blue           ( Get it, Blue Heron? HA HA HA!!! )

They make it harder than need be,
Just look at him you’ll see,
He is blue, very blue,
But no bluebird . . . indeed!

Love ya,
Bethany / Spiffy

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