Notes About The Poem
image from Hope at pinterest.com
IN A FOREST NAMED CAMELOT
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In a forest named Camelot lush and green,
lived a gray squirrel, quick and keen.
His name was Arthur, a sprightly furry lad,
with delusions of grandeur, in his armor well clad.
One sunny day, beneath a mighty oak tree,
he spied a sword as big as big could be.
This must be Excalibur! Arthur cried,
with his nut-stained paws and eyes so wide.
Excalibur, you are MY mighty blade.
I’m King Arthur, be not dismayed!
No longer am I just a critter small,
I’ll rule this realm, beloved by all!
With tiny paws, he climbed the base,
and faced the sword with noble grace.
Farsighted, Art grasped a twig instead of steel
believing he was embracing Merlin’s ideals.
I pulled it out! he squealed with a cheer,
From this stone, my royal fate is clear!
For in this wood, I’ll take my regal stand,
A squirrel king am I, of this fair forest land!
So raise a goblet of cheer for Art, so spry.
With twig in paw, his kingdom no one can deny.
In his world of quixotic, leafy dreams,
Arthur reigns supreme, or so it seems!
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