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I am a Wood tick's Favorite Food
There’s a wood tick in my cellar
He be knocking at my door
There’s a bunch of them on my tummy wall
I count at least twenty-four
One is biting my ankle, it is screaming out in pain
That is what I get I guess for gardening in the rain
The wood ticks are fierce and mean, floating out of trees.
They glom onto my body and hair in two’s and threes.
Is your dirt therapy worth it? Asks a man who does not know.
The joy of using a tiller, rake, garden gloves, clipper or hoe.
I took two baths yesterday and pulled ticks out of every direction.
They are avidly eating me as if I am a sweet confection.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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