A grasshopper sat on my toaster today,
Looking puzzled yet nonchalant.
How it got in my kitchen, it’s hard to say.
What on earth did the grasshopper want?
Across in the bin there were plenty of scraps
That a grasshopper normally likes.
Was choosing the toaster a cognitive lapse?
Didn’t burnt crumbs raise warning signs? Yikes!
Meanwhile through the front door the swallowtails fluttered
Around the abelia flowers.
The squirrels purred contentedly up in the trees,
Munching early fall acorns for hours.
And that’s where I let the small grasshopper run
After coaxing him under a glass.
He reminded me walls can be quickly undone,
For it’s Nature, not toasters, that lasts.
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