Full grown black and beautiful,
But still gregarious as hell,
And much of mischief full,
Of his latest escapes I’ll tell,
With the neighbours do I sit,
Right across the backyard fence,
When a cone my head it hit,
I looked up to see from whence,
Who, but whom else, could it be?
This rascal friend of mine,
My little Jacob did I see,
Way up there, up in the pine,
No attention had I paid,
To all the noise and cawing,
Though I knew, not I be late,
He’d on his treat be gnawing,
My neighbours laughed, and were amused,
By all the noise and antics,
That he would have a weapon used,
My tardiness to fix,
Ok, I yelled I’ll be right there,
Calm down you demon black,
Move your ass; I thought he’d swear,
I’ll peck your head, my name not Jack,
Reluctantly we all got up,
I’ll have to run, I said,
Apologized, left wine and cup,
Pate and salmon with regret,
The racket stopped, the neighbours laughed,
And quick we parted ways,
I’ll be back I said, when his hurt I’ve salved,
There should be no delays,
Quiet now, too quiet, so I thought,
Where is that rascal gone to now?
Not, should I have looked I ought,
When I moved away the bow,
Mischievously, I should have known,
Salmon in his beak he had,
And sipping wine, the droplets shown,
This black-eyed rascal lad,
The neighbours stood behind the door,
Amused, and laughing at his wile,
While Jacob munched on treasures store,
Black tie and tail, and dined in style,
It’s my entire fault I thought,
I spoiled him rotten every day,
No manners had I him taught,
Most times he got his way,
Coffee, wine, and silver spoons,
He lived in style most every day,
He was more trouble than sweet young coons,
All he did, was shit and play,
This tiny short tailed monster now,
Has grown in stature black,
Tall legs, and tail somehow,
And says my name is Jack,
Should he swear, I have not heard,
Though I doubt he’d bite his tongue,
Think him religious be absurd,
Which choir could sing his raven song?
Yet he knows his way up there quite well,
He flies there all the time,
Never does he fly near hell,
Ought to tell me might decline,
My story has to end for now,
For it’s early morn at five,
Again with treats I take a bow,
His lordship for attention cries,©07/06/2012
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Regis
Ron
gotta love him! they are clever, aren't they?
you've delivered this with such style insight and humour
i'm paying the fullest attention and loving every image
and line...this is great!
john
Donna