Mole's Spring Love Song
A solitary life has Mole;
he lives alone by choice.
His humming needs no harmony,
his speech no other voice.
For lunch Mole munches worms and grubs.
He sips rainwater sweet.
To excavate a dinner plate:
snail pâté and sliced slug meat.
In snow Mole knows to burrow down
feet below his frozen mound.
Are you lonely, only Mole, all alone?
Wish someone brown and warmish were around?
Spring brings softened soil and roots
that tickle Mole's wide snout.
Singing winds remind him...she was here.
Mole's up and out.
A paw? A gentle claw? It pats Mole's back.
His burrowing halts.
This path's too tight for turning.
Mole tucks tail and summersaults.
Mrs. Mole! His soul's revival!
She who holds his old mole heart.
Bullfrog bass, join sweet spring peepers,
Let Mole's trilling love song start!