Ursa tale # 16 of 64
Ursa Opened a Shed
Chicken wire separated him from the pigs. Lots of piglets, black ones and brown ones, milled around in the straw, and an old boar lay on his side, breathing heavily. Ursa spoke through the chicken wire. “Well, got to go,” he said. The boar said, “How can I reach you?” “Maybe I’ll be singing at the Mud Club.” The old boar grunted. He wrote some words down in the straw. “The Mud Club, sounds good. That’s not right, is it?” “Oh,” Ursa said, “maybe HeBGB’s.” The piglets jumped and squealed. The old boar wrote “He Be” in the straw. He said, “No, no, it’s that prairie thing.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, I may be singing at the Heartland Prairie Club.” The boar spelled with his trotter. “Will be singing at Heartland Prairie.” “No no,” Ursa said, “maybe. Maybe I will be singing.” Some of the piglets looked through the chicken wire, and saw the tallgrass under blue sky, and got excited, and ran through the straw, scrabbling the words. Ursa Opened a Shed
Chicken wire separated ver from the pigs. Lots of piglets, black ones and brown ones, milled around in the straw, and an old boar lay on his side, breathing heavily. Ursa spoke through the chicken wire. “Well, got to go,” ve said. The boar said, “How can I reach you?” “Maybe I’ll be singing at the Mud Club.” The old boar grunted. He wrote some words down in the straw. “The Mud Club, sounds good. That’s not right, is it?” “Oh,” Ursa said, “maybe HeBGB’s.” The piglets jumped and squealed. The old boar wrote “He Be” in the straw. He said, “No, no, it’s that prairie thing.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, I may be singing at the Heartland Prairie Club.” The boar spelled with his trotter. “Will be singing at Heartland Prairie.” “No no,” Ursa said, “maybe. Maybe I will be singing.” Some of the piglets looked through the chicken wire, and saw the tallgrass under blue sky, and got excited, and ran through the straw, scrabbling the words. |
Ursa Opened a Shed
Chicken wire separated her from the pigs. Lots of piglets, black ones and brown ones, milled around in the straw, and an old boar lay on his side, breathing heavily. Ursa spoke through the chicken wire. “Well, got to go,” she said. The boar said, “How can I reach you?” “Maybe I’ll be singing at the Mud Club.” The old boar grunted. He wrote some words down in the straw. “The Mud Club, sounds good. That’s not right, is it?” “Oh,” Ursa said, “maybe HeBGB’s.” The piglets jumped and squealed. The old boar wrote “He Be” in the straw. He said, “No, no, it’s that prairie thing.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, I may be singing at the Heartland Prairie Club.” The boar spelled with his trotter. “Will be singing at Heartland Prairie.” “No no,” Ursa said, “maybe. Maybe I will be singing.” Some of the piglets looked through the chicken wire, and saw the tallgrass under blue sky, and got excited, and ran through the straw, scrabbling the words.  COLORING PAGE
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(Word > Prose Poems > Ursa and the Animals) |
posted 9 March 2012
