A children’s story in poetic form
I was sitting one afternoon and watching a couple of Robins that return each year in Spring. They must have four nests that they have built over the years, under my deck, that they pick and choose from. I got to thinking. Do Robins have a relationship with mice? And if they did, what would their conversation be like? As an extra character, I added an Owl to the story.
Why not eat worms?
Said the Robin, the beauty of the farm
To the mouse who’d never caused him any harm
A worm to me means life you see
It gives me the strength to fly and to be
As free as a bird can ever be
That’s why the worm means so much to me
The mouse replied in a squeak and a sway
I could not eat a worm in that way
Or any other I suppose on any other day
A nut, some seed would fill my tummy
Or from that tree I’ll search for Honey
Above so perched you could hardly see
An old Owl announced, “Why not ask me?”
The Robin jumped to a branch nearby
The mouse looked up to the two in the sky
With a hoot the Owl began to agree
A worm at times is tasty to me
And I enjoy a nut from that old nut tree
Then the Owl jumped off his branch so quick
The Mouse just froze as stiff as a stick
He moved so fast as he shouted loud with a squeal
“A Mouse is my favorite kind of meal!”
— WOLRAD
(A poem from the Wolrad collection #353)
