Have you ever been puzzled while watching a neat
Shapely young lass as she follows the beat
While crooning away on a love song so sweet:
What determines the number of cephalopod feet?
Organized mollusks on plankton are fed.
In the world’s seven oceans their efforts have led
To passionate love in the sediment bed,
To little cephalopods, eight legs on their head.
The cuttlefish swims with his rear end in front.
His backbone is destined to suffer the brunt
Of parakeets pecking and mynah bird’s grunt.
His eight legs are useless for kicking a punt.
The squid is an insecure beastie. The least
Trauma gives rise to an ink cloud. Like greased
Lightning, it rushes away from the feast
It imagines it would be if caught by a beast.
Octopoids, octopi, the plural is not
Decided by fiat or settled by lot.
Whatever the plural, we know they have got
Legs in abundance, profusion, a knot.
The nautilus pearly departs from the rest
Of cephalopod character. It has the best
Method of living. It lives in a nest
Of logarithmic spirals. Its legs are its crest.
These creatures are products of rapture and love.
It behooves us to not think that we are above.
They come to our rescue when danger doth shove.
“To be forewarned is to be one half of.”
A naïve councilman and a down-on-her-luck single mom try to save their county’s last stand of forest from greedy developers and a dysfunctional government.
Sage