It Isn’t an Insult

I think more material will move smoothly onto the blog site as we transition.

It isn’t an insult

t isn’t an insult

My grandson calls me

He who shits outdoors 

Which was an act of need

Performed as required

At the beginning of the long walk

As the clan secured the corn for floor

And made sure the walnut nut jack

Was packed with the mortar and he got

The finest stash packed with the fire starter

The clans, bear, wolf, blue jay

Each shed scat of the recent bounty

Records which when amassed 

Became the projection of the promise

Of what was daily routine and now is history.

And was done frequently enough

In a low squat perfectly described

A ritual of desecration if you were

Abandoning the clan’s residence

Ending with a whistle as the chief 

Rose among the oak trees the final gift 

The circle evidence on a successful stay

Requiring only a short march of a few days.

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