The nip patch by my purple plum
is my favorite of spots.
The nip grows sweet,
the flowers deep,
I hides happy in the lot.
December can bring
warmer days, days of slanting sun,
I ventured out,
I made my run
to the place
I dreams about.
It was verily
a patch of brown,
nothing much to munch.
Then a patch of brown
raised from the ground
and made a mighty SQUAWK!
A bright red crown
raised on high,
it made my tail puff out.
I gave a hiss,
I lunged and missed.
The marauder I rout!
He echoed back
two-syllables
and flapped his mighty wings:
A little closer Sir Gallinaceous,
and your pretty neck I'd 'ring!'
But alas and alack,
She recoiled the slack,
And brought me to her side.
She picked me up,
Her "Nolliness"
like a damsel in distress!
I do not know where
the usurper went
or if he knows his crime:
You venture once upon my patch,
I lets the offense slide.
Twice, you amble in my nip,
Grouse!
You're mine!
