The Salamander Man

Night had fallen
On a midsummers eave
Warm winds were blowing
Through trees full of leaves

Street lights lit
A soft yellow glow
Would illuminate what
Neighbors called “The Show”

Out in the street
A man and his son
Already at work
The Hunt had begun

The wife-The mother
Stayed upon their land
Looking out upon
Her son and her man

Armed with an empty can
Of Maxwell’s Best
Weapons tucked tightly
Into their vests

Listening intently
For the call of their prey
A sound rarely heard
In the light of day

With cat-like quickness
And tremendous skills
The hunt…a success
The beasts were all killed

The air filled with laughter
And howls of glee
For not one or two beasts killed
But thirty-three

A can full of crickets
Two hungry mouths can’t wait
To wrap their salamander lips
Round their favorite salamander bait

Half of the street
Never understood
But on quiet nights
In that neighborhood

Words are whispered
The legend lives on
Of “The Salamander Man”
And his “Salamander Son”