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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2007625
A wretched tradition is carried out in Pelican Cove.
Fourteen pelicans waddle through the west
Dressed up, paired up, two abreast.
Cowboy hats adorn the two in back.
The other dozen: feathered horses in black.

Waddling down the center of Main,
Spectators watch the scene all over again.

The pelicans play the parts of founders
When all they want are fish or flounders.

Decades before, so the story is wove,
The birds helped settle Pelican Cove.

The settlers traveled far from the coast,
Moving west while playing host
To a flock of screeching, dirty birds
Who’d dive-bomb folks and leave white turds.

When all fourteen birds had passed away,
Pelican Cove was born that day.

Decades later, tradition still sticks
While uneasy townsfolk watch, transfixed.

Barbaric actions are not always the best.
That’s what makes this the wild, wild West.

Line Count: 20
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