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My uncle’s home, had a forest nearby;
he loved animals so; left some supper scraps, outside.
It was always his generous intent to feed,
every stray, that crawled, walked or flew, from those trees.

While visiting him, one sweet, southern night;
through the kitchen window, my eyes did alight;
upon his loaded scrap pan, I glimpsed, such a sight;
it was terrifying, as the moon rose, that night.

Oh those poor hungry cats, dogs, opossums and raccoon's, 
I cried and felt dizzy, I thought I would swoon.
The small woodland creatures, would not have their meal;
For a Sasquatch, I saw, gobbling it down with such zeal.

I bolted the door and my camera I fetched;
a photo I must have, of this giant wretch.
Thank God for fast speed film; I thought, as I snapped;
The sun had gone down; sister Moon just unwrapped.

Back into the woods, Sasquatch loped with huge feet;
How long had he come, to my Uncle’s house, to eat?
After he left, I opened the door, 
held a lettuce leaf down by the stairs for Old George.

I hoped that old Sasquatch, hadn't harmed good Old George;
an old bullfrog that lived under the stairs, of the porch.
The stench on the air, was so horrid and foul;
But Old George, took the lettuce, with a slight little cowl.

My Uncle just laughed, at the photo I took;
as he closed up the pages, of his favorite book.
Uncle said with a smile, "Sasquatch’s name is Bob";
as for cleaning a plate; "it was his favorite job".

That weekend, some friends, uf my Uncle and Aunt;
came to dine on barbecue, beer and descant.
Over old times and old friends, they did reminisce;
with their bellies full, they exuded such bliss.

I don’t think that they saw, the stranger nearby;
hidden between giant oak trees, but I met those eyes.
With longing, they glared, at the still smoldering grill;
and I knew that very night, Sasquatch’s belly would fill.

Sure enough, once they’d gone, Uncle piled a plate high;
with barbecue scraps and even some pie.
By his garden shed, the huge plate, he laid;
With a wink of his eye, Uncle turned, went away.

There just, was no sleeping, for me on that night;
I sat by the window, till evening twilight.
Once again, old Sasquatch, came back for his meal;
Uncle patted my back; said, “How does it feel?

“To be one of few, to see a real cryptid?”
Into a chair, in awe, I then slid;
Well, I could just deny, that I’d seen, what I saw;
the fact is, that Sasquatch, was the best vision of all.

By: M.L. Kiser
Entered in: "Bigfoot Contest"
Sponsored by:Skat A
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