I write a poem!

My job

When I go out

It is my job

to pick up all the sticks

on the street

especially the sticks

that are twice as big as me


When I go out

it is my job

to drag the sticks

as far as I can

for as long as I can

and then drop them

and smile


When I go out

it is my job

to notice every rabbit



(oh birds! in every color chirp and flutter!)

and chipmunk

and the chipmunk holes


I have so many jobs

and these are only the ones

without balls

The End

Love, Scout