Armadillo
On sunny days he would rustle
Through the fallen leaves
Trying hard to avoid any trouble
As he searched diligently
He was focused as he dug
In the fertile soil
For tender roots he loved
And for beetles he enjoyed
His head was a plow
Going through the leaves
And with a little rain
He furrowed quietly
He sometimes went underground
To escape the danger above
And was safe and sound
In the bunker that he dug
He’d come out again
When the danger was gone
And there was peace for him
As he moved along