|Allison drawing in the sand at outdoor school many years ago.|
One of my former students, Allison, recently reached out to me. Allison was a talented writer when she was in my classroom, and apparently she has continued to hone her wordsmithing craft. Below is a bigfoot poem she was kind enough to compose for her former teacher. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Whoosh, crack, crunch,
Something’s on the rush.
Whistle, croak, howl,
We wanna find him, but how?
Look what he’s left behind,
Great big footprints in mud and brine!
Is it false, hoax, or a ruse?
But it could just be the truth!
Is he a lost cousin from the distant past?
Or maybe something only revealed at last?
Oh, these questions spin ‘round and ‘round,
But one thing’s for certain, he’s gotta be found!
But we don’t wanna hunt him with guns and darts,
We’re open to finding with pictures and marks.
So get your cameras, gather your pens,
Let’s go meet nature’s new friend.
He doesn’t exist? How could this be
When we’ve seen the proof right below the trees?
I think he’s out there, just hiding from sight,
All those people must be a fright!
So whether you call him Bigfoot or ‘Squatch,
When you’re in the woods, be on the watch,
He’s there in the shadows like wolves and bears,
And like them, too, be quiet and don’t scare
(Not that he would really care).