When the Woolly Wind Blows


Who knows if a gnu’s knees knock at night
When the woolly wind turns whiskers white,
And feathered friends are frigid flurry fluffs,
And tsetses’ tingling toes turn terribly tough?

And who knows if basenjis brave its bite without a bark,
And antelope await another ark,
And rhino’s noses robe in royal red,
And baboon babies button up in bed?

Just who’s to say these things aren’t true
And possible in season?
But never trust the poet’s pen
When it’s contrary to reason!



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