Tristan Robert Lange
Springtime Silence
A little one playing.
Warmth of spring rain falls
On baby groundhog.
Excitement exudes.
Baby Wesley walks care free,
The new grass spring’s fare.
A beautiful world
Beneath silver lining skies,
Bring a vernal hope.
Another enjoys
The same waking season’s rain.
Air brings the fresh scent
Of an infant’s excursion.
Its essence triggers instinct.
Wesley takes his last bite,
Before the dog takes its first;
It chomps down really tight.
There was no real chance for flight.
Wesley’s blood quenches the thirst
Of a dog with violent might.
O, the most horrible sight!
It is the absolute worst.
The dog chomps again real tight.
Her jaws grinding—no more fight—
She got to the rodent first.
The dog bites its final bite;
The bones crack—snap—Wesley’s plight.
His eyeballs pop—bloody burst—
Out dog’s mouth with violent might.
Wesley’s day turned night,
This month being just his first,
A final chomp—the most tight—
Groundhog spit out with cold might.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.