Part I

A gentle breeze touched on the trees
And then it tore them down,
There’d be no simple sights to see
In this old hollow town.

The town of Crumble came to be
When stars all glanced away,
When they looked back a town of three
Had sprouted from the clay.

Young Tacker was the biggest seized
Out of the living soil,
The other two were modest bees
In search of flower spoils.

The town of Crumble sat like dew
On clay from which it came,
Its purple twists of red and blue
Leaped like a living flame.

Part II

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.

Part III

A pebble spilled on down the hill
To lead its many friends
In avalanche, for come what will,
They’d show this town its end.

Rough Tacker felt a rocky thrill
As he was buried deep,
But he would need no pick nor drill
To save all from the heap.

The flowers led, and do so still,
Up to the loving light,
So the town grew as it was filled
Up with the mountain’s might.

The town of Crumble bloom by bloom
Swirled with the world around,
Combining, growing with more room
For any in their town.

Part IV

A hungry fox found the town crops
And then a mouse and bird
Invited their respective flocks
To feast as one great herd.

The trick of life is putting locks
On things for which the keys
Are in our pockets or our socks
To do with as we please.

Both bees and Tack pulled out all stops
To meet the critters’ needs,
So they would break down the town box
And spread all of its seeds.

The town of Crumble emptied out
To build itself once more,
While all it needed was one sprout
It got them by the score.

Part V

A spark awoke the town to smoke
And curious young flames,
Who much like Tacker were evoked
To play a larger game.

The elements are changeless folks
Who bring about great change,
Few things will ever dare to coax
Like danger stark and strange.

Our bees and Tacker met the hoax
That fire will just destroy,
And as they caught they also stoked
The flames up with great joy.

The town of Crumble came from clay
And now it had its kiln
To welcome it to sunny day
Though night had let it in.

Part VI

A shooting star flew from afar
To Tacker still alight,
As if a beacon called it there
To pick a fiery fight.

But it was not for any war
The two of them now met,
The star fell down from distant lore
To pay a happy debt.

The stars saw Tacker open doors
That something cold had closed,
So they brought him to join and soar
The heights above the crows.

The town of Crumble carried on
In twists of purple clay,
As bees pulled life from the beyond
And Tacker looked away.