On the one hand,

Or should I say, on the other,

What the heck, it’s too much bother,

Both hands now can’t use at once,

To do this task,

Why? Well I’m glad you asked,

Typing at the best of times,

It’s not my favourite sport,

Unless some sturm and drang,

To do this would exhort,

Ok, this is what you get,

The keyboard is all wet,

It did its thing,

Pooped and typed a string,..............

With one toe and a wing,

This wee red breasted thing,

Normally in my hands it sits,

One or the other………….Turdus migratorius

If in the right,

With typing I won’t bother,

This Turdus migratorius,

It lets me know who is boss,

Jasmin like, put on wings,

Again she tells me, do these things,

Loud and feisty, with chest in red,

Tells me when to rise, and get to bed,

Then gets me up at sunrise,

With too much noise and cries,

And if not in my hand all day,

In the backyard does it play,

Flying now, from here to there,

Playing catch me, if you dare,

The tail and her now twice the size,

In seven days, I tell no lies,

Healthy is she too to boot,

On worms and hamburger for food,

Some berries here and there,

I often with her share,

The only thing her little feet,

One twisted real neat,

Either surgery or plaster,

Will fix this hurt disaster,

You’d never know though that she’s sore,

Judging by the way she snore,

Nearby, the pillow, where she slept,

From there, into my bed she crept,

I found her laying cross my throat this morn,

Snoring like to beat a storm,

Or was it me?

It doesn’t matter can’t you see,

All beings love to snuggle tight,

When darkness calls the night,

In the daytime cradles in my hand,

For love, most creatures understand,

Not prisoner I’ll make of her,

But let her fly, her freedom share,

And when she then returns to ground,

She knows where I’ll be found.©24/07/2009