The Day the Giants CameA Poem by stargirl23A commotion outside caused Squirrel to wake. “What is this brouhaha?” said he. “Have you no concern for my sake?” Eyes darting around, his anger was extinguished, for he saw Raccoon, whose hair now resembled wisps of smoke curling up to the moon. “Why Raccoon, what’s set your calm demeanor afire?” “The Giants are back, I fear what they plan, O Sire.” And that was when Squirrel saw what Raccoon recounted: a group of them, wrapped in black bark, like no sane animal did. “These Giants, they’re greedy, selfish, weird, insane,” was Squirrel’s remark. “All others are helpless in their quest for gain. And look, they wear collars round, like they put on those they own. Without those gray sticks of theirs, we strike fear in them, a fact well known.” “Still,” replied Raccoon. “This is no time for judgement. They come to us now, and"oh, what is that scent?” “’Tis that flickering warmth they use to kill ticks. It is far more devastating than those gray sticks.” “Come on Raccoon,” continued Squirrel. “We better hustle. It would be fruitless to plead with those who disregard the Law of the Jungle. One day, we’ll wield That with a just intent. Then, we will drive them out and settle in their dens.” © 2016 stargirl23Author's Note
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