Let's kick off this ode down an old country road
With a landscape bucolic in view,
Where a mailbox there showed near our humble abode
With a door just so slightly askew.
To an unbiased gaze, it had seen better days;
There were dents, there were bumps, there were scratches.
When the rising sun's rays set the morning ablaze,
You could see all the fix-ups and patches.
Yet despite imperfection, 'twas one bird's selection
As real estate prime in location.
A rag-tag collection of straw-based confection
Each morning caused loud exclamation.
Each time that we cleared it, the darn bird repaired it;
'Twas driving us all to distraction.
At last we despaired, "It's all yours we declared. It
May bring to us both satisfaction."
In this uneasy truce the wee birdy cut loose,
For she spent not a moment in resting.
You would think that a goose or perhaps a small moose
Had taken up letter-box nesting.
All the bills that were due and the newspaper too
Arriving by rural delivery
Were allowed to accrue (slightly stained it is true)
By Warren the mailman, all quivery.
"What have we permitted? The mail can't be fitted
Inside!" I then cried in anxiety.
"No love notes transmitted, no poems submitted;
This bird's cut us off from society!"
"Let's throw the thing out, we can do it no doubt,
It's only a duster with legs."
But alas, we'd struck out, for the bird had popped out
A half dozen shiny blue eggs.
Our anger departed, we're far too soft-hearted;
For the chicks still unborn, there's no danger.
By bird we're outsmarted; Christmas spirit has started;
This family's all safe in their 'manger'.
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Author Notes
If you can't quite make out the right-hand photo, it shows hungry, squawking chicks inside the mailbox!
Merry Christmas and best wishes to all FanStorians. See you all next year.
Steve
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