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
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