Two fleas went hopping on a mat,
having disembarked the cat
to have a moment out-of-fur
and once escape that thunderous purr.
Their tropical resort gets hot,
with itchy dandruff and whatnot;
sometimes they hunger for fresh air,
to see the world outside that hair,
so they opt for a walkabout.
The mat gives them a good workout.
Some minutes pass; their wandering zeal
is quenched by urge to have a meal
and so they seek their host again —
but puss has moved along by then
which leaves them with an unfilled yen.
And worse! The housekeeper now sees,
has zero tolerance for fleas,
so scoops the mat up from the floor
and shakes it harshly out the door.
They tumble off into the grass
and land together in a mass.
They sort themselves and find some shade
behind the thickest grassy blade
to soothe their bruised elbows and knees
and ponder life’s uncertainties.
So now two fleas hide in the grass
in hopes that some new host will pass.
The Ragtag daily prompt yesterday was A FLOWER CRIED. I had something in mind and tweaked a poem I wrote some years back, but have been slow getting it posted. And here’s a Pixabay image I found to go with it.
A flower cries.
My lovely little blossoms
have sore throats,
a swelling, I suppose,
of too much nectar.
How co-operative you are,
pretty flower, so patient with that
bumbling Doctor Buzz
in his yellow-striped coat
as he pries open your silky jaws
and pushes his portly self
How willingly you put up with
hairy feet tickling,
his fat nose in your tonsils.
He mumbles to himself
as he pokes among
your tender stamens.
How funny that buzzing must feel
deep in your golden throat!
At last he discovers the problem
he wants to cure:
an abscess of sweetness;
to his delight
he manages to remove it all.
Then off he flies,
always in a rush to the next
not even washing his feet.
Good morning everyone! Absolutely clear blue sky above and a mainly day ahead for us; Environment Canada predicts a high of 28 C/ 82 F. On a day like this you can almost hear the garden grow and see the flowers stretching up. 🙂
I visited fellow blogger Bill already and read his haiku about a moth. Which inspired me to write a verse of my own, but the words kept coming so I went way beyond haiku limits. Our outside light is an active place after dark, and come morning I see quite a few intriguing “lumps” plastered on the railing below.
creature of the night
confused and dazzled
by the artificial sun
round and round it flutters
my kitchen light
a host of shadows
flicker along on the wall
come morning I find it pasted
folded in sleep on the coffee jar
from which I hope to extract
some flutter for myself