trail

i walk that old trail

with hope to beat a little

the sugar count

but more to leave another trail

my walk along the river

with a little quiver

caused by my bone

not ready to fight a beaver

i return from my stride

excited like a bride

elevated by the groom

himself driving that ride

though it was only a coin

that i added to my loin

but sure there were hugs

and a kiss from that grass crown

henry victor     18.06.2003

celebrating a nature wak

he cycles behind me

and at times in front

on my old walking trail

my new convert

a way for my bicycle!

on it he feels very free

to litter it with his voice

a noise of joy of a six year old boy

but with a precision

that school teachers use!

a mosquito, a daddy-long-legs

alias crane fly

a cricket, a butterfly

now a dragon fly

before stopping to stomp

stamping hard his foot

proclaiming his hatred for ants

arguing they are fire ants

further forcefully announcing

they sting and i must kill the queen!

he complaints too, and loud

the litter on the ground

a sure way, he says, to kill

the city of champions

pausing suddenly for the dead mallard!

he believes in picking

the lifeless bird to put

in the way-side garbage

a bin in which his grandfather

earlier, dropped the broken bottle!

finally he arrives to play

to overcome any leftover boredom

he throws grass blades and dry weeds

into the pond tricking ducks with fake food

from where he will return home!

© henry victor       20.08.2015