By John Warth

(Editor¹s note: John Warth, a resident of the Meadowbrook neighborhood, submitted the following poem which he wrote after being ³inspired by the beaver family at Meadowbrook Pond.²)

BUCK TEETH

Remember when your parents chewed you out
for chomping on pencils, tooth picks,
wooden spoons?
³You¹ll lose your front teeth.²

If you were unfortunate enough
to have buck teeth,
you endured the humiliation of braces.
³Some day you¹ll have beautiful teeth,
can learn all the social graces.²

Now, if you had been born a beaver,
your parents would have chewed you out for NOT
chomping down on wood ‹
tree trunks, sticks, logs.

³You must constantly hone
those beautiful buck teeth ‹
or they will grow in a spiral.
Remember Grandpa?
His neglected teeth choked him.
he croaked.

³You can practice your tail-slapping though,
learn to scare off bobcats and coons.
But even your play is really honing
your skills at chomping.
None of this romping around,
teasing crawdads and frogs.

Remember,
to be a beaver means to work,
work, work without relief.
We must inspire those two-legged critters,
you know.
Besides, we need to eat, be safe and warm.

³Some day you¹ll build a home that¹s a beauty,
be a hydraulic engineer even ‹
but not if you shirk your duty.²
JOHN WARTH