Thursday, 3 September 2009

The masked bandit

I arose before dawn
I heard such a clatter
Suppressing with a yawn
What could be the matter?

The moon it had shifted
A connection I made
My stupor was lifted
My shin the bed frayed


Stumbling on the deck
I flicked on the light
I said, "What the heck?"
Outdoor rustling not right

On the deck was the lid
In the photo you'll see
Bird seed no longer hid
Bandit hid well from me

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