A huckster from Huxby displayed
His circus of fleas to any who paid.
A bug on a trapeze
Can soar with such ease
And for wages takes marmalade.

I am the sorry dog,
Chasing my own tail- a subject of quiet dialogue.

Like the fleas, I cannot shake away,
I cannot seem to shake her face.

I am her sorry dog with no passage of rite,
A tortured creature, though sad and polite.

Love is not for those who preach it,
But for those instead who burn and weep for it.

I am the sorry dog with no home to follow,
Just a broken heart within me,
Blackened and hollow.

Fleas, ticks and chiggers
the bane of a rural life
animals suffer

Get rich quick: go and set up a flea circus!

The king of the castle sits,
His back paw scratching his head,
Ruminating.
The aging cat wonders if he'll ever lose
the itch.
Then, apparently having reached a satisfactory conclusion
The furry statesmen curls up by the fire
                                                       Drifting....
...off
                                             ­                              to...
                                                           ­                                                      sleep...
he purrs softly to himself:
The rumble of unfathomable ponderings.