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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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