The wheelbarrow is upside down on the wood pile.
Woodpecker in the pine tree asks,
Who will stack the wood?
I will, says the poet, I will stack it tomorrow.
But the next day the wheelbarrow is still upside down.
Who will stack this wood?
Asks woodpecker to no one in particular.
I will, says the poet. I will stack it tomorrow.
But the next day it rains.
Who will stack the wood? Asks woodpecker in the black walnut.
I will, says the poet. I will stack it tomorrow.
But the next day the lawn needs mowing
And the wheelbarrow stays upside down.
Who will stack the wood? Asks woodpecker
In the old sycamore.
I will says the poet. I will stack it tomorrow.
But the next day, you guessed it,
The wheelbarrow is still upside down on the woodpile.
Woodpecker is gone
But slug on the flagstone has been paying attention.
Who will stack the wood? Asks slug.
I will, says the poet.
I will stack it tomorrow.
