"It seems nothing good ever happens to me,"
Cooed the sad mourning dove to the sparrow.
"Just yesterday I was out hunting for seeds,
And the fox shot at me with an arrow.
My squawk made me drop the nice spray that I'd got
(That fox snuck up on me without warning!)
I knew I'd not find a replacement to dine,
So went hungry the rest of the morning."

Sang the sparrow to she from up high in a tree,
"I was shot at today by that fox,
But my luck was intact; I was able to flee
And flew out to a meadow of phlox.
While in hiding out there, I was looking around
And discovered a seedy vine twining.
So you see, getting shot at was perfect for me
As it led to some fine morning dining."

The dove prattled on with her sad, mourning song,
"It seems no one will ever befriend me;
Although try as I may, none of them want to play,
And I never have friends to defend me."
When the dove raised her head and looked up in the tree,
She saw not one sparrow; instead she saw eight,
Singing songs and rejoicing about their good lives,
And the dove started feeling both envy and hate.

"Why is it that everyone wants to be friends
With you, little sparrow, but never with me?
I want friends around me to make me feel good,
But I sit by myself, all alone in this tree."
The sparrow chirped to her, "Each one of my friends
Holds a special and wonderful place in my heart.
I share with them happiness, joy, and delight,
And we all take it with us whenever we part."

Then one of the sparrow's friends went to the dove.
He sang her a song and then asked for a seed,
But the dove said, "I need these in case of a fire
Or a flood or tornado or if I should bleed."
Put off by her gloomy, unfriendly demeanor,
The sparrow's friend went back to sing with the group.
"You'll miss me!" the dove cried, without much conviction,
And watched as he joyfully flew in a loop.

A few days went by, and the dove sat around
Bemoaning her bad luck and life all alone:
Her food wasn't good, and her nest was too cold,
And she didn't have much she could say was her own,
But the one thing that made her the saddest by far
Was living without a true love by her side.
"Boo-hoo!" cried the dove, "I have no one to love"
And she wallowed in loneliness, there did abide.

The sparrow spoke up in his cheery bright way,
And he said, "I know someone who needs all your love,"
Then he held up a mirror in front of her face,
But she said, "All I see is a sad, mourning dove."
The sparrow said, "Dove, the one who needs your love
Is the one who is with you wherever you go.
If you don't love yourself, no one else will, it's true,
And by loving yourself, you will let yourself grow.

"You and I share the same trees, the same sunny days.
We share this good earth and the bounty it brings.
Each day is a new one, unique and divine,
Yet you live in your gloom and don't notice these things.
You have much to be thankful for, so much to love,
But you moan and you groan and don't open your eyes.
By focusing on every problem you see,
You miss all the good, and that's really not wise."

Then the sparrow took hold of the dove's feathered wing,
And he urged her to fly with him, then he said, "Look!"
And he pointed out beauty and shut out her woes,
And they sang and ate seeds and then splashed in a brook.
As the day lingered on, the dove's point of view changed,
And she took to heart all of the lessons she'd heard.
She hugged herself, smiled, and said, "I love you, Dove!"
And from that bright day forward, she was a new bird.

Beneath a sheltering banyan tree
Just east of West Bengal,
A peacock meditated on
His frailties, large and small.

And as he pondered he heard the sound
Of slithering under the tree;
In the shadows he spotted a cobra,
As subtle as he could be.

The peacock spread his exotic tail
And daintily moved away;
The cobra coiled in a wreath of scale,
Slyly knowing the right words to say.

"Such extravagant plumage," the cobra hissed,
"Is excessive and should be restrained.
There are too many hues in the feathers you use—
Those less gifted will surely complain."

"But it's natural for me to live colorfully,"
The bright-colored bird replied.
"My brilliant tail is no more than a pale
Reflection of what lives inside."

"All the more reason," the dun snake said,
"To try to fit in with the crowd."
"We don't like colorful feathers here.
We think they're pretentious and proud."

"My plumage is not harming anyone,"
The peacock said with a tear,
But his confidence was shaken,
And he shivered with secret fear.

For when he was young, the bird had begun
To feel he would never belong.
Iridescence, it seems, is the stuff of dreams—
To the everyday world it seems wrong.

He swept his tail through the dust till a pale
Tan cloud rose into the air.
As it fell back down, it covered his crown
And dulled his feathers fair.

The snake looked at him with a satisfied grin
And repaired to his den in the tree.
The poison slipped in though no fang touched skin,
And worked just as effectively.

Night is filled with howls and screeches,
Rat he twitched and curled up tight.
Bear was growling, wolf was howling,
Rat sought comfort in the night.

Full moon lit the midnight playground,
Rat he feared the raven’s screams;
Sleep at last it brought rat comfort,
Safe now in his world of dreams.

Little rat was filled with wonder,
Looking at the shiny walls -
Mesmerised by his reflection
Soon was lost amid these halls.

So this labyrinth confused him
And the bright lights hurt his eyes.
In the distance now he heard them;
Owl and wolf - the maze’s spies.

Cloaked, they lay behind the shadows,
Rat lay down, began to weep;
Hunting, chasing, haunting, taunting,
He could not wake up from sleep.

***

Wake now, rat, the owl is sleeping,
Let the sunlight warm your skin -
If you spend your whole life fearing,
You must fear the beast within.

Once there was a surly cat
Who snarled and scratched and madly spat
At all who tried to friendly chat,
But most of all at Fred the Bat.

"Fred the Bat is an ugly cur!"
The cat averred with honeyed purr.
"Just look, his rancid hide of fur,
His wrinkled face and ears like spurs.

"Why, can you even stand the sight,
Or do you cringe and screech in fright?"
The cat guffawed at this witty slight
And turned his back as Fred took flight.

The cat went walking one summer's day,
And in the forest he lost his way.
He asked for help from a passing jay;
She giggled and twittered and flitted away.

The sun grew tired and went to bed;
The cat did slowly lose his head.
Each rustle and snap filled the cat with dread.
And who did see his plight but Fred?

"Hello there, rude cat!" he squeaked with a wink.
"You must be afraid, as you're quite near the brink.
And yet you're not so lost as you think.
Trust me, you'll be home 'fore you blink."

Sure enough, his word was true,
And swiftly out of the woods they flew.
When Fred flapped low to bid adieu,
The mumbling cat coughed out, "Thank you."

Fred gasped! He could not believe his ears!
Kind words from a mouth only used for sneers!
"I'm sorry I made fun of your ears,"
The cat bowed his head and blinked back tears.

"I know now that looks deceive.
Tomorrow I'll not be naive."

We pack the car the night before
so we can walk right out the door.

We load the car with so much gear,
I think we have left nothing here.

The only bag I save to pack?
The baby clothes and diaper sack.

It used to be an easy drive
but now we’re lucky to survive.

We’d share the wheel when we were two.
With no pit stops we’d drive straight through.

Now there’s a third and she is loud,
with screaming like an angry crowd.

Remembering the baby toys
can keep us sane and stop the noise.

The CD is repetitive
but baby coos so we forgive.

We’re heading down Route 405
when squelching sounds impede our drive.

I turn around so I can face
exploding poo in every place

“Get off the road!” I start to shout.
“Open the door and get her out!”

“Now where’s her bag?” my husband gripes.
“The one with clothes, diapers, and wipes?”

I flush bright red and then I say,
“It’s sitting back on our driveway.”

Our plan is going down the tubes,
good thing I brought along my boobs.

“You keep her fed, I’ll go explore.
The next stop has a Walmart store.”

My hubby drives into the wild.
I nurse the stinky, naked child.

Eventually the man comes back
with just one empty Rite Aid sack.

“Just wrap her up,” he coaches me.
“I’ll clean the car A.S.A.P.”

We get back on the road but then
we hear revolting sounds again.

We pull off at the next exit
before she starts another fit.

The moral that I give to you?
It's always pack for extra poo.

The Unicorn is a dying breed
Slowly leaving this earth
Maybe they will rise again
Only needing a rebirth

It is just a dream I had
Off in a distant past
A fairy tale of the mind
The the unicorn will last

This once bold steed has his head bowed low
As he stands before a divided path
He must choose left or right
AS he meets the deadly wrath

There was hope when he started his trek
But halfway down the road
Half of the number was deleted again
And why was never told

As the shrinking herd of noble beast
Quietly made its way
The reason for the journey they began
Saw it's very last day

Even though there was no reason
To continue in this strife
It became more than a journey to them
It became a way of life

All the suffering they had seen
Was only made in vain
Now all that is left behind
Is a unicorn without a name

He as reached an important choice
He does not with to make
But soon he will risk his life
And chose a path to take

The choices are limited
Either road could be right
One could lead to help live again
Or both could be death's light

A trial in the life of one helpless and pure
Could be a deadly sin
The pressure of this infinite choice
May hold him from within

How can his futile life
Be able to condemn them all
How can he die knowing
That he was his world's last call

To find the leprechaun's pot of gold
It's the rainbow you must find
It's the same with the fork in the road
To help his dying kind

With his spirits broken and head bowed low
There seems no way to win
And he stands in front of the broken path
Too scared inside to begin