15 Feb 2013

come on, summer...

I've been cooped up in this house too long...  and I want the roses back on the frame.

1 comment:

  1. "Cooped up too long, Chicken?"
    Asked Frisky, the frisky Fox.
    "What you need's a stylish fur,
    Not feathers nor comb's cox.

    Come on out! Flee your coop,
    That's just the thing to do,
    And I have lovely recipes
    About which we might stew."

    Squawk the Hawk flew overhead
    And thought to claw a catch,
    As long any Chicken thought
    To strut the barnyard patch.

    "Come and smell the roses,"
    Squawk's hawking pitch cawed loud,
    "Though beaks aren't quite noses,
    They're chic in the chicken crowd."

    Frisky Fox and Squawk the Hawk
    Bided time's passing hours,
    In hasteless, tasty anticipation
    Of a Chicken amongst the flowers.

    Swoop would scoop as coop was left,
    While the fur surely frisky fly,
    And Chicken as commodity
    Would simmer, bake, roast or fry.

    So did Frisky Fox and Squawk the Hawk
    Pitch the pitch of the cooped up coop,
    In hopes that one chicken would prove to be
    A finger-licking nincompoop.

    Come on, summer, wine and roses,
    Ticking time many things exposes,
    Such as this and such as that
    Flops into the fire from the fat.

    Every tale tells something rare,
    Clothed in metaphor or even bare.
    This one though is meant for fun,
    One day when there's just not enough sun.

    "Come on, summer," Roses whine;
    They too like to bloom and shine.
    Like our Chicken, Fox and Hawk,
    Cooped up, to through a window gawk...

    ...at what might be and what will come
    When one leaves a cooped condominium.
    Summers coming, don't you fret.
    On that sure thing you can bet.

    -- Jules' ninny mouse