Run, I run into the fields,
Into the depths of forests,
To find a special gift,
For my master’s joy.
He feeds me.
He defleas me.
He delitters me,
Twice, thrice weekly.
He’s a good master,
Certainly, indeed!!!!!
I spot a field mouse,
She’s scurrying about.
Not good enough,
Not unique for my master.
Let her be my dinner!
Chase, chase...gulp, gulp...yum, yum!
On my way to find,
To find, that special prize.
My master is wonderful,
He’s masterfully kind to me.
Ah...I spy a chipmunk,
Peeking behind a trunk.
I approach with stealth,
Got em’! Got my wealth!
On my way home we go,
Me alive, him well...eh.
Yes, home at least,
Yes, home for repast.
Paw pound door, pound n’ pound...
Knock, knock, knock...knock
I can’t wait to see,
Grin on master’s face.
Door opens wide,
Alas, home sweet home.
I place gift at master’s feet,
I look up feeling proud n’ merry!
But he kicks it aside,
His grin turns down into a frown.
I wonder why?
I worked so hard to please.
Oh well...maybe next time,
Perhaps, bushy squirrel or fat rat!
---------------O--------------
Author: This poem is about the comedy of lower consciousness misunderstanding higher consciousness. For example, how many people mistranslate the "callings" of their souls as "calls" to sink themselves more deeply into worldly pleasures? They think that their misunderstood inner naggings are really "calls" for bushier and fatter "rodents".
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