Hunter Springs
Stopped at the park for our lunch on the run,
Parked under trees to stay cool from the sun,
Eating our sandwiches, munching on chips,
Or organic nature, not chemical mix.
The sun’s shining brightly, breeze cools off the heat,
Watching those youngsters in feats they compete.
Divers and swimmers and snorklers too,
Exploring the river and the springs bottom blue.
How bout these squirrels perched outside our car,
Patiently waiting hors d’oeuvre’s of discard.
Prepared at all times for a stop at a park,
We’ve a bag full of peanuts in our new H H aRk.
We exit our Chevy and head through the trees,
To a picnic bench waiting the squirrel comedy.
Then from all directions the squirrels they descend,
In a hustle they bustle to their peanut man friend.
They run and they jump and do flips in mid-air,
All for a peanut with which they won’t share.
It takes Arline and I to keep track of this throng,
As we parcel out peanuts until their all gone.
Then back to our car as we’re slowly pursued,
They want more? where’d they put them, we haven’t a clue.
So in one last attempt to demonstrate that we’re through,
We show our pockets are empty as we bid them ado.
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