A little furry ferret
Who loved to sneak around and
He'd sneak and he'd steal
With such skill and appeal
With his whiskers so fine
And his eyes they did shine
And he's a mischievous bundle of joy.

A busy ******
Whose building his
Dam and he's
Quite fast and clever
With logs and with sticks
He's always on the go
And he works all day
And all night
To keep his dam just right
And he's created a warm
And safe home.

Oak trees, Pine trees, Cottonwoods, and Birch
Upon these trees,
birds love to perch
Birds come in all
sizes and colors
Birds calling and chirping
with all the others

Squirrels, Rabbits,
Chipmunks, and Foxes
Scatter the grounds, burrow into holes, and sometimes boxes
Winter, Spring,
Summer, and Fall
They gather thier goodies,
to survive them all

Deer, Moose, Antelope, and Elk
Wander through fields,
woods, and corn silk
Grazing on whatever
nutrition they can find
All hunkering down in these times with thier own kind

Bears, Bobcats,
Cougars, and Wolves
Hibernation, catch prey, climb and attack, the
beautiful, wild dog packs
in droves
Deep dark caves, burrowed holes in the ground,
to wandering forests, and
great big meadows
All these predators seem to come from the shadows

Waves of lavender fields of dreams, like river beds of sand
Fields of flaxen, golden grass waiving with God's hand
Daisies, Buttercups,
Rose's, and Daffodils
Just smell thier sweet scents rise into the hills

Dreams are Wishes,
Wishes are dreams
Wildlife are the makings of everything in between
Flowers are the fragrance of life
The blue skies and
white fluffs of clouds
Take away all the strife...

Sneaky fox his steps are so light
Unleashing madness in the dead of night
And little fox he's
Always up for a fight
And he's sly and cunning
In the middle of the night and he's
Outsmarting all who comes to explore
And little fox a creature of the night
Forever on the move and
Keeping his secrets hidden away
And forever and always
Watching out for his prey.

They say the city has no landscape
No life
Nothing but concrete
Nothing but steel

They say that
Without ever looking
At the city
In the night

Feral cats
Squirming bugs
And although the trees are small
They loom over small unlit paths

Lonely dogs
Flying moths
And although the buildings are imposing
They too are part of it all

They're our homes
And the homes of rodents
Pigeons
And even more squirming bugs

The city's not dead
But we are