butterfly butterfly

I met a muskrat young and wise
A-fishing in the brook.
The water floated slowly past.
His line it had no hook.

I asked him, “Are they biting?”
He told me, “Not a bit.”
I asked what he was fishing for.
“More time,” he said, “to sit.”

Muskrat eyes half closed. Muskrat eyes closed.
Swimming fish. Swimming fish.
Water sparkling in a brook. Water sparkling in a brook. Rocks in brook. Muskrat's fishing line dangles over the water.
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