There’s an Alligator in My Backyard

Aftermath of a storm has surprising results.

I woke up groggy, post-thunder boom,
Coffee in hand, I stepped from my room,
The grass was soggy, the sky still gray,
When I saw something big in the puddle’s spray.

It wasn’t a branch, it wasn’t a log,
It wasn’t a neighbor’s runaway dog.
With scales and a glare and a sideways grin,
An alligator waved, “Come on in.”

I blinked twice, rubbed my eyes, did a spin,
“I did not invite you, reptilian kin!”
He yawned so wide I could see his lunch,
A frog leapt out, went crunch, crunch, crunch.

I Googled fast: “How to remove a gator,”
But the internet said, “Try calling later.”
I called my uncle, he said with a wheeze,
“Throw it a chicken, it might just leave.”

I threw it a drumstick, I threw it a steak,
It snorted and sneezed in the mud by the lake,
I tried to reason, I tried to beg,
“Could you please just leave? I like my legs.”

I brought out a speaker, played it some tunes,
It wiggled its tail under drippy monsoons,
But every time I waved goodbye,
It blinked at me with a lazy eye.

At last, I called Animal Control,
They showed up slow, on a morning stroll,
They scratched their heads, said, “It’s your lucky day,”
And lured him off with fish fillet.

Now every morning I check outside,
For gators that come in with the tide,
And though that storm left quite the mark;
It’s the gator that really stole my yard.