After early lark coos, and bin lorry roar,
I heard a little scuttling, upon the garden floor,
ninja like; descended tree; brushed right by a posy,
and went; towards; its favourite place; tattered old tea cosy,
acting as a parasol, for those herby friends,
nano bits; deterred the slugs; no mini-suck offence,
with the nut-king foreman; partaking in a mosey,
it sniffed at the cloth shed, a worn out grey tea cosy,
the birds above did circle, but knew its reputation,
for it; would climb; right up; to them; to take its medication,
thus; they flapped away; quick legs remained the nosey,
then it quickly turned around; returning to tea cosy,
as reward; some Bombay mix; was wolfed down so fast,
no finer start to the day; great scene; with great cast,
but then I did look down, and it wasn’t something rosy,
what was grey; turned so brown: squirrel shit on tea cosy!