SPAGHETTI LEGSMother plovers with spaghetti legs,Squatting on two speckled eggs, Cautious eyes are darting everywhere, The high spy plane that is the hawk, Too far away to hear the squawks Can he see the nest from far up in the air? Plots the path of a fisherman, Strolling the shore with rod in hand, Watches him passing by the nesting plover, If the angler scares spaghetti legs, The plover will swiftly leave the eggs, Hawks dinner table will lay there without cover. The angler stops and drops his load, Sets his tackle in casting mode, For a feed of fish silently he begs, Casts his line with some panache, Submerges after a gentle splash, Watched by both the hawk and spaghetti legs. Hawk wings flutter on the warm updraft, Master assassin of his avian craft, Now concerned the sun is getting dimmer, If the worried plover with spaghetti legs, Doesn't soon desert the eggs, It'll have to seek some other place for dinner. Hawk goes into a steep nosedive, One last effort to survive, The plover's up and no longer sedentary, Standing up exposes eggs, The once stiff spaghetti legs, All of a sudden are just a touch AL DENTE! |
