Two souls sit heavy, their sorrows drawn deep,
Weighted by burdens too vast to keep.
They look for distraction in a muskrat book and song,
To ease the realization of a future gone wrong.
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Quiet, shadowed, slipping through reeds unseen,
A muskrat evades where the danger lies keen.
His life, a nervous balance on the edge of prey,
Hunted by all in dusk’s soft, blurring gray.
A small life of caution, ready to flee,
Each pond ripples the whispers of a mystery.
Soft wavelets dance under silver moonlight,
Where Muskrat Susie meets Sam at night.
The whirl and twirl through the water, whiskers twitch and gleam,
In love’s lazy rhythm, in a sweet, fur-bound dream.
Tenille’s serenade of whiskered joy, so clear and so bright,
The Captain’s trilling of the swamp in the keyboard of the night.
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Here, in Anne’s book, with muskrats in play,
The absurd, gentle creatures wash the dread away.
We laugh till we’re breathless, till our hearts ache and sway,
At whiskered romances, at fur in the fray,
For how strange, in the flood of a life torn apart,
To be mended by creatures with innocent hearts.
Look to the muskrat and learn what it shows
A life on the river where instinct flows.
For while we toil in the net of our schemes,
The muskrat cares nothing for power or dreams.
In marsh and creek, in quiet disregard,
It teaches us all to love our wild yard.
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