Rank… is the word for it…
Critters have their good years
Some years they have it bad.
The deer sometimes run everywhere,
some years, one cannot be had.
This year, it’s a billion bunnys
boundin’ thru the grass.
A zillion coyotes couldn’t eat
the blooming, bunny biomass.
The county side can’t feed ‘em.
I tell ya’, it ain’t funny.
There’s not a trail out there to ride,
where there ain’t a dead and sour bunny.
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End: Sour Bunnies