by Poppa Jump [Poppa is a chipmunk.]
In the run of the stream, under a limestone shelf, a red antenna waved. I crept there, let my tail wobble down, like a furry worm. A crawdad pounced and with its claw bit. I was shackled to the thing. I screamed, “Ay ya,” and smacked the head. No good did it do. Then drawing my shale sword and shivering up I slammed the point behind its head. The orange monster was dead. I wrenched my tail from its claw. My family feasted on crawfish soup that day. And that’s the kink in my tail you see, my children, today. Be quick in war with the crawdad and your tail will not be sorry.
“The actions and events of our childhood and youth are now matters of calmest observation. “
Emerson ‘The American Scholar ‘