Sitting on a Stump I

I took a longish hike.

Boy, my legs were tired.

I shoulda took my bike.

‘A’ stump I acquired.

Deferred to my weary feet.

I would sit a bit.

An oak stump for a seat.

Rather than stand on it.

 

On a stump. I’m sitting on a stump.

There’s no better place to rest my rump.

On a stump. Formerly a tree.

There’s no better place to see what I can see.

What I can see.

 

Specifically, a bee.

Big as a ping-pong ball.

A wondrous sight to see.

That single bee weren’t all.

But, there weren’t too many.

I watched ‘em buzz and probe.

I watched ‘em gather honey.

Most times, towards bees, I phobe!

And, there weren’t only bees.

I spied, there on the plains.

Majestic wildebeest,

running wild, eating grains.

Flamingos flocking grand,

to confound the seer.

What are flamingos and

wildebeest doing here?

 

On a stump, on a stump I’m sitting.

There’s no better place to put my butt.

On a stump. The cosmos must be kidding.

There’s no better place to ponder what.

To ponder what.

 

Anything else it’d be

otters, sleek and slippery.

Going down a mud slide,

and playing seek and hide.

Chattering with their kin,

down the sluice they flew.

And, back in the den

they made other otters, too.

As close as could be to them,

cavorting in hibiscus.

I just want to hug them,

but they’re small and rather viscous.

 

On a log, my supporting friend.

A stump’s a log, but vertical.

From a log, with roots on the bottom end,

the world looks rather pertiful.

To see what I could see.

What I could see.

 

Look yonder! A fire!

A-sparking flames. And sirens!

Then, a man inspired.

Hearing barking, he rushed in.

With tiny dog emerged.

The watching crowd, it surged.

The hero for to see.

The hero turned to flee!

(But, the pooch, he left.

The doggie was unharmed.

And in the crowd the hero cleft,

safe in his mother’s arms.)

“Not a hero!” Hero swore.

Down the avenue he tore.

The crowd even more adored.

They just chased him even more.

 

(Sweet Guitar!)

 

On a stump, I’m sitting on a stump.

There’s no better place to observe human nature.

On a stump, or log or root.

Or whatever nomenclature.

To see what I could see.

What I could see.

 

(Thank ya, Clyde!)

 

Poor hero headed east.

But had the worstest luck.

‘tween crowd and wildebeest,

the hero, he was stuck.

They gently drug him back,

and they made him pose.

A hero they had lacked.

Dog licked him on the nose.

They made him comb his hair.

Bought him shoes, ain’t all.

Hired him at the Hardee’s there.

And had him coach baseball.