|Four Free Ride
In the spring we ride for free,
for that is what was meant to be.
So small and fragile at our birth,
our mother's pouch becomes our earth.
We hid from dinosaurs in the dawn.
Ate their eggs and lived on.
Through the terrible time of their death.
Thrashing wildly their last breath.
Burroughed in through cold, dark night.
Surviving on death until the light.
When the birds sang again,
in the hours before long lost dawn.
Now the monster machines come,
rip up our home and leave us none.
We have to wait for the trees to grow,
but we are patient, we are slow.
We sense the warming, coming soon,
We will survive, for we have room.
We can live where you would die,
A million years mere bat of eye.
For now we wander your backyard,
four free ride, young and proud.
Read War's End, the Novel
Copyright 2007 © Ronald W. Hull
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