A quiet creek set out to wreak
Its havoc on the house
That welcomed in the coming drink
Too happy to be doused.

Wet Tacker gathered up the leak
For his deep garden rows
Where sprouts had all begun to peek
Convinced that soon they’d grow.

The bumbly bees were happy weak
At all the hinting buds
For they knew flowers would soon sneak
Up to the world above.

The town of Crumble cracked like crabs
As hard things must to gain
A greater place, shells are safe traps
That shield and then contain.