Armadillo

It’s four in the morning and the Geezer’s awake,
Nothing important, just a short geezer brake.
The dogs are on duty and Rika kawoofs
And the Geezer pops up knowing the game is afoot.

He finds the light quickly like he did before
And oh so quietly he’s out the door.
He shines the light round sees nothing at first
And thinks of retreating and quenching his thirst.

But, among the leriope just ten feet away,
The plants move quite gently with the slightest of sway.
A big body is rooting, emerges below
Like tanned grey leather, a big armadillo.

Comical small head it roots here and there,
A big body follows and a long striped tail.
The light does not bother, it can barely see
And I do not hunt it there is nothing to fear.

It moves to the West and around the house,
Disappears slowly, it’s quiet as a mouse.
The night is not over and with a plop does appear
A little green tree frog jumps on to the screen.

The Geezer’s head bows in a heart-felt quick thanks
For the inspiration this simple scene has.
He thinks of the mom deer and spotted small fawn
And turns off the light switch to await the dawn.

©Geezer Béla in Exile,
Aug 18, 2009