Aug. 14, 2019: "Tiger Pit," by Mr. Ben
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We were digging there for hours
In the forest while the flowers
Sent their pollen to our noses, running wild.
Our arms were growing tired,
But our minds, they were inspired.
Eventually our bodies reconciled.
Standing over, looking down
Our jaws dropped with our soil-covered shovels,
At the hole that we'd made in the ground.
I still recall that exhalation,
Whispered wow at our creation.
Eyes drew up and met, and then we smiled.
We climbed up in the Douglas Fir
With snacks and our binoculars.
Oh, the focused spirit of a child.
Perched in the boughs looking down,
We waited and we waited
But our tiger never came around.
The light, it started crawling;
I could hear my mother calling
From my home not half a mile through the shade.
Secret-handshook our goodbye.
Another day, another try.
Lucky was our tiger to evade.
In the morning, it was a Saturday
So we made haste and made our way
Back to see what happened overnight.
As we approached, we heard a sound:
Cries calling up from sunken ground,
They reached our ears and turned our faces white.
Standing over, looking down,
Our tears fell like that creature
In our hole in the ground.