Raccoon And The Moon

There was a raccoon -
A furry tycoon,
A greedy, despicable pest.
He ate what he could,
And looking for food
Is what he had always done best.

Then one clear night
The moon caught his sight:
"Oh my, what a wonderful treat!"
For the hungry raccoon
Our beautiful moon
Looked like a thing he could eat.

"Is it sweet like a prune?"
Thought the craving raccoon.
"A mushroom, a pancake, a cheese!
I shall climb up this pine,
Then I'll jump - and it's mine!
As simple and fast, as a sneeze".

Caught up in his dream
Of muffins and cream,
The creature was climbing all night.
It happened in June,
And therefore, soon
The forest was covered with light.

"Oh no, oh no!
My precious, don't go!"
But the moon faded out of his sight.
"Creepy-creeps, I will die!"
And he started to cry,
For raccoons are afraid of heights.

So he sat there all day,
Frozen as clay,
Afraid to let go of the bark.
And climbed down the tree,
When again couldn't see
Just how high up he was, - in the dark!

Since then all raccoons
Go hunting for moons
And spend their days stuck on a tree.
Their hunt is in vain,
Which gives them much pain.
A curse for their greed, as you see.

But each afternoon
An angry raccoon
Climbs down to the ground to find
Leftovers and trash,
Which give him a rash
And don't satisfy appetite.

"You, humans, beware!
Your trash here and there
Is all that is left now for me.
But later or soon,
With fork or with spoon
I’ll eat up the moon, and you’ll see!”

***

Oh, tell me, tell me that he loves me,
That he is there, that he’s still mine,
That I am not forsaken crazy
And that I haven’t crossed the line.

Oh, tell me, tell me that he’s dreaming,
And that wherever he may be,
As to a lighthouse, brightly beaming,
His thoughts are always drawn to me.

Oh, tell me, tell me it’s uncertain,
How fate unfolds its mystic dance,
That there is hope beyond the curtain,
And that we still may stand a chance.

I'm not a blogger

I’m not a blogger, but I will use this space

To write about the things that get me going:

The wonders of the world that I embrace,

Discovery through feeling and through knowing.

I’ll write about my Homeland, if I may,

And keep as far from politics as ever.

I’ll write of where I stay and where I stray

And hope you will support this small endeavor.

And if you do not hear from me too long

Don’t bore me like an angry rusty auger.

My writing skills are poor, don’t get me wrong,

I told you from the start: I am not a blogger.