So deep in the fuzzy forest, were creatures in singing chorus. Amid lush and warm colored covering, floating soft mist hovering, and cuteness so smothering, Mother Nature is one hell of a florist.
One creature inhabits, is part bear, part rabbit, an animal not yet burdened by discovery.
It hides away, from the inevitable day, when it’s
numbers fight for recovery.
A hoarder of debris, they pick up for free, all the junk they see on the forest floor. Every wrapper is great trash, for their mysterious stash, and all of it stuffed into a tree,
Call them the garbage collectors, the treasure inspectors, the litter critters, or crap detectors, They fulfill the service to clean up the forest while studying and learning our excesses.
Where humans tread, waste is shed, these little guys clean up people’s messes.
On one occasion, after the camper’s invasion, was found a box with a lovely tone. Buttons to depress, this creature calls the address, of every one on that abandoned cell phone.
Aisle by aisle, nary a smile, shoppers ache for invisible deals. Carts they steal, feeling that wheel, it wobbles, reels and it squeals.
Ignoring their toddlers, they are shoppers not coddlers, the toy department serve as a sitter. Savings are cravings while rudely behaving, price cuts are pills taken less bitter.
Texting, phoning, droning and moaning, consumers absorbed in their bubble. Knocking down product, oblivious, hypnotic, end-caps are reduced to rubble.
Once a year shopping, starts my brain popping, I cannot escape the great beast. It feasts on the treats, sheets, and red meats, my defeat is excessive receipts.
When your standing in line you’ll know what to do, after an hour of odd glances, the new view is your shoe.
The sighs breathe unease, for we’re all out of our element. Anywhere else seems much more relevant.
Our vision is littered with ads and dumb rules, we’re told, molded, and scolded like tools, ghouls and fools
Will this line ever end? Is this just the start? Is that a tire fire? or did someone just fart? There is no way around it, this line is a snail. You’ve come this far, there is no plan to bail.
To combat these people and the space that their hogging, you planned way ahead, as you can practice your clogging.