The Naturalist Companion

This is a poem about a man's visit to the lakefront.

I was standing at the waterfront
Strolling on the high trees.
I got sucker-punched
Right up in my high beams.

The young birds said, in my head
I was sliding.
The beavers built a bridge on me instead.
I was hiding.

Don’t ever let your guard down again!
I’m serious!
If I get too many sucker-punches
I will be delirious.

Now that I think about it
The young birds set me up.
Chirp, chirp, then eat dirt.
Those beavers wet me up!

Still on the waterfront
Thinking about my boxing coach.
And I just remembered eating all my eggs this morning.
They were poached!