The Observing Whiskotoes

Tiny and timid, diminutive too;
they like to hold hands—all Whiskotoes do.
Alpha Centauri, their home planet’s star;
alien wee creatures Whiskotoes are.

Sixteen have dropped down to Earth for a spell;
they celebrate sixteenth birthdays as well.
Going unnoticed by Earthlings okay;
Whiskotoes observe our planet each day.

They are enthralled with all creatures extant,
from a rhinoceros to fire ant.
But since they’re tiny, for seeing to fly,
they have to find vantage points from on high.

They like exploring the jungle for sure;
but they all huddle with lions astir.
They heard that humans call this cat a king;
even to Whiskotoes, it has a ring.

Up in the trees they see toucans abide;
elephants stomp by—the Whiskotoes ride.
Alien creatures have channeled their fear;
some of them hold to an elephant’s ear.

Whiskotoes wend o’er the Earth in their ship;
quick is an Africa-Amazon trip.
There on a river so wide do they boat;
they are observant yet they do not gloat.

Fish in the rivers or fish in the lakes;
Whiskotoes are quite averse to mistakes.
They’re counting species for their book of life;
they find the creatures of Earth to be rife.

They observe humans from plains to the shore;
much of what they see makes Whiskotoes sore.
They see injustice and hunger for pelf;
humans a species who preys on itself.

Even in libraries Whiskotoes roam;
among the many tomes they feel at home.
They learn one fact which compels them to think;
most of the creatures of Earth are extinct.*

Whiskotoes get in their ship to return,
hoping humanity someday will learn:
there is no guarantee survival wins,
when love is halted and hatred begins.

40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
9-4-16
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*95% of all species to ever exist are now extinct.