no...........it probably magic

ME MAKE FIRE!!!

the only true story that i have to tell today is one that will not be complete until i get those damned pictures!! : ) so, instead. a little dip inside my old poetry notebook. my Very old poetry notebook. to any of you who may have already read this: deal. and as always, no correct capitalization for you!!

ahem. here we go!!:
'Ole Blue

i was walking 'cross the farm one day
when i saw two little squirrels begin to play.
they were ripping and roaring and chasing and running
over cows who were sleeping and snakes who were sunning.
into the old storage shed they SHOT
clinking tiny nails on gramma's old pots.
they ran 'round in circles chasing their tails;
jumpin through holes in rusted out pails.
they found a bag of gramma's old yarn;
they dragged it out in the yard all the way to the barn.
they ran up and down making trails in the hay
upsetting new foals where in slumber they lay.
they chewed holes in the bottoms of the big bags of grain,
then they danced in their small little patches of rain.
they ran up great wide beams and then across rafters,
the one running in front and the one following after.
they jumped out the tip top and slid down the roof flat.
they tumbled in wild circles till they finally went SPLAT!!
then ole blue walked up to see the little bodies all broken and battered.
he looked left and right where all the blood had just splattered.
he looked round again then sat down in a hunch
and he stayed there a while till he'd finished his lunch.