Sweet potato Joe’s crow, Flo, flew
up to the heights,
where the squirrels reside
sharing and storing their nuts,
In the branches where
Each has a nest, yes, a little apartment
though none of them own these
so nobody pays rent.
As such, squirrels don’t work that much
They gather their nuts
Which are amply dispersed
Of course, risks exist,
Trucks and cars are the worst,
Though it’s nothing compared
to a coal miner’s work
Or sitting for hours
dissolving your spine
Your eyes going blind
The squirrels, you know
how they spend all their time?
Examining the cosmos, and engaging in play
Why can’t we all live that way?
Flo asked Sweet Potato Joe.
That, Joe said, would be ok.
I don’t quite know what else to say;
I guess we’re not as smart as they.
