JAN-itorial overreach

So, let us write of finer things Avoid forever bee-less stings Mock the errant bird that sings Of low tide and the stink it brings Our sands will e’er be brilliant white With bobbing sails just out of sight Moonlight shining silver bright On speed-o’s worn a bit too tight Soft forest winds will tease the trees While pollen-winds demand we sneeze Old weary snakes survey our knees And slowly shake off winter’s freeze The signs say we should lend a hand In keeping clean this pristine land For the animals don’t understand That “poop” of any kind is banned