“I don’t have the kind of fortune,”
The eel said to the loon,
“That comes by way of wish on wings,
Yet here you are so soon.”

As he wrapped his fin around her foot
And glanced at swelling moon,
His stomach grumbled hungry groans,
Demanding to consume.

Loon said, “Beware a wish so easy got,
For they are hungry too.
I might give this a second thought
If this loon were you.”

“Every thought I have is this!”
The eel spat of his wish,
“That all the world would crawl to me
And climb into my dish!”

The eel then introduced his teeth
And made to make them known
To the calmly seated loon
Who then showed him her own.

Loon ate the eel without a crumb
Of care for wish or want
Even though the loon herself
Had dreamt of such a hunt.

The full and happy loon took flight
With moonlight shining on her back,
Guiding her from wish to wish
To wish to wishful snack.

Illustrated by DALL-E in the style of Randolph Caldecott.

With all sorts of rights and wrongs
It’s less if you’re smart or strong,
Less the mess of “better, worse,”
More live and let belong.

Life is short and life is long,
You’ll be right and you’ll be wrong,
Make the wrong the short of it
And you’ll roll right along.

Jungle Ruck

The jungle comes to a book! The vivid jungle paintings of Henri Rousseau help showcase the wild animals and wild spirit of the jungle. Come explore.

Your trash misses you,
It dreams of what could be.
You threw it all out
And thought you were free!
But it won’t let you go
‘Cause you’re all that it knows,
You made and sent it out,
Into the world it goes!
I could list it all here
But you know better than I,
And as for me –
The longer list is mine.
Goodness knows I miss it too,
I worry about my trash.
So I throw myself away
To find my lost mishmash!

(Read part I here.)

So you’ve been caught and shipped
On as a special beast?
While true that you’ve been stripped
Of nearly every piece
Of you that you’ve equipped
You’re still a beast, at least,
And when your package drops
At someone’s lucky door –
They grab it! Out you pop!
You growl! You howl! You roar!
You chase and dare not stop
Till beast is boxed once more!
Your choice has come, sharp creach.
Go free or stay, fair scup.
If you join us, fine leech,
You don’t yet know, young pup,
The beastly heights you’ll reach –
Make profit and move up.

Illustrated by DALL-E in the style of John Bauer.

A pirate with an eye patch
Is a frightful sight.
One day I’ll rule the waves
And must show the fight
I’ll have in me as a captain
Striking terror left and right
So none oppose
‘Cause all suppose
None are fierce as I.
So I picked a perfect patch
And strapped it ‘cross my eye
As if I’d took a blinding scratch
That shut off half the sky.
I’d never looked so fierce before,
There’d be no going back.
When you’ve got the upper hand
Attack! Attack! Attack!
So I put a patch on that high hand,
Admired it a bit,
Then patched the lower one
For a pair of fearsome mitts.
I patched my nose, my ears,
My toes and arms and knees,
By the end I’d wrapped myself
Till I was well and truly squeezed.
I’ll admit that on a ship
I’d look a little funny,
But when it comes to terror
Few are feared more than a mummy.
So I sail now for the desert
To rule the sandy waves
As a haunting mummy pirate
Who could not keep a grave.

The door was locked
The window wasn’t,
So out we went,
The daring dozens,
Free as we could wish to be,
And we’d wished hard
And we’d wished long
And we’d discard
Any silly reason
Not to be
Just as free
As Good agrees
We all should breeze
By like comets,
Uncontained by anything
That comments,
“Control yourself!”
“Not your concern!”
“Get back here!”
“Wait your turn!”
There’s no being free
Or you in part.
If your head is locked
Go through the heart.

I’ll take the rather longer way
Because I’ve noticed that the short
Gets me right to my planned out day
And keeps me from the funner sort
Of things that buck and bray and play
And bring me more than my plans may.

There was a white owl in a black stone coat
Who rowed in from dreams in a cracked bone boat
With a ringtail rat
Who sang as he sat
In key but never on note

Of the lives that were lived in the hours of sleep
That built worlds that would give all but not keep
And said to set sail
For the Isles of Tale
For there the dreaming was deep

Enough that it might yet stay out of sight,
Survive the first light ending the short night,
And then as the dawn
Glanced up with a yawn
Owl sang with rat the invite

For the crack was a fact of their bone boat,
Owl thankfully sank with hope in stone coat
But the rat swam on
Still singing their song
In key but never on note.