Written by: Keith Bickerstaffe

Rodento is a pal o' mine
he sits atop a tree,
an extra to the foliage,
a natural topiary.

I named him 'cos he looks so real,
a critter with a snout,
a wiry tail part of his trunk,
some whiskers, and a pout.

He greets me every morning 
when I take my cup of tea,
as I stroll out on the balcony
I swear he's watching me.

When gentle breezes shake the tree
the varmint darts and dances,
but what if stronger winds persist
pray then, what be his chances?

What if a hurricane blows through?
he might well disappear,
surrendered to the elements,
then I would shed a tear.