Scaredy-Crow

Christopher Crow had a problem,

A problem as deep as the sea,

Though he would have loved to soar up above,

He found altitudes frightening you see.

So Christopher hiked up the hillside,

And climbed to the tops of great peaks,

But he never would fly, could not even try,

Lest his stomach rise up to his beak.

His girlfriend, the rook, Ravenetta

Invited him out on a date.

“Let us go for a glide up the green mountainside,

Come at seven, and please don't be late.”

So Chris had a bath and a preening,

And set off in plenty of time.

Though it may sound insane, he just strolled down the lane,

So he got there at twenty past nine.

Ravenetta, as you can imagine,

Had no truck with his silly excuse,

For what kind of a crow would admit vertigo?

As a boyfriend - he’s worse than a goose!

For a goose has no problem with making

A beautiful nest on the ground.

But it’s easy to see, a crow’s nest needs a tree,

When those foxes come sniffing around.

Ravenetta left Chris in the doldrums,

And went off to find a new mate.

Which just goes to show, that a scaredy-cat Crow

Must at some point step up to the plate.

The Yoga Teacher

In the lotus position, the teacher sits,

The students, suffering, all regard her.

She quickly shifts, and does the splits, 

Turns out there’s postures even harder!

The Gandergoose

A rare flightless bird, the Gandergoose

Lives its life on the Island of Muck.

It wanders around feeling free, feeling loose,

Sharing gossip and tidbits with ducks.

A canny old bird, the Gandergoose;

The chicks are watched over by Dad.

He makes the whole nest out of chocolate mousse,

So they never feel hungry, or sad.

The fat flightless bird, the Gandergoose,

His strategy’s really the best,

For when predators come for the little papoose,

They invariably just scoff the nest.

The Treasure Tree

Young Irene had a piggy bank,

She kept her treasure in it.

She got a trinket, coin or gem - 

She hid it in a minute.

She worried lest her treasure trove 

Be lost, or even stolen,

So in the woods she found a tree:

A Yew tree with a hole in. 

She put her treasure in a box,

And hid it in the Yew tree.

That way she could be sure to keep

Quite safe her things of beauty.

She went each day to see the tree,

And check how it was doing.

And went home feeling satisfied;

Much heartened by each viewing.

First once a week, then every month,

Her visits grew less frequent.

But still her heart was warmed anew 

By any Yew-tree weekend.

The Yew became her treasure tree.

In time, as she grew older,

When she felt blue t'was not the box,

It was the tree consoled her.

And so her visits brought her peace,

The Yew tree gave her solace,

Unlike the treasures she'd acquired,

Which once just made her jealous.

And when Irene grew old and frail,

The hot sun left her jaded.

And then her Yew tree sheltered her,

And kept her cool and shaded.

There came a day (there always does),

When, sat beneath her treasure, 

Old Irene drew her final breath.

Upon her face: pure pleasure.

Two crows sat watching from a branch,

Then hopped inside the Yew tree,

And seconds later brought out gifts:

A small girl's things of beauty.