An Ode to Rubber Boots

An Ode to Rubber Boots

Lonely rubber boots sit on the porch.

For ducks and geese and other fowl,

They carry high their rescue torch.

Ready and waiting with drying towel.

As the wind whistles through the trees

And quiet descends upon the forest.

They listen intently for 'help me please'

While softly sings the boreal chorus.

No calls come, no need for aid.

The nests are calm, the water clear.

These volunteers are not made

For anything other than rescue gear.

Then clearly on the nights soft wind

A sound is heard of a money clip?

Then a snap, a roll, a ringing din,

A melody of gambling chips!

It can't be true, it is not right.

It seems so odd and kind of funny.

The rescue is under casino lights

For that is where to find the money!

Lonely rubber boots are waiting still.

On call to save the fowls so dear.

To slog through marsh o'er grassy hills

For Ducks Unlimited, they'll volunteer!