Ode To a Groundhog
Who knows just how he met his end?
I found him floating in my pond.
Swollen, bloated abdomen;
the rest off to the Great Beyond.
The weather has been hot and dry;
the pond: a bit of water there.
He may have jumped; poor little guy.
Smooth-sided walls became a snare.
Suppose that I should shed a tear;
forgive me if I do not cry.
One wrecked my garden crop last year,
so I will simply say goodbye.
Copyright © Jeff Kyser | Year Posted 2022
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