Every few days, we’d find our kitchen a mess.
I must admit, this caused us some distress.
We would find the white metal of our cooler
brown print dirty, but what we felt crueler
was that they in the shadows returned
and took more food they hadn’t earned.
But, what really caught us unaware
was that they never touched our silverware.
My wife preferred that we set no alarms,
and she refused to allow any firearms.
Now before you start to admonish us,
let us explain what really astonished us.
A wooly mammoth was the food thief.
Now can you understand our disbelief?
His wife was hiding safe in the wild,
in her belly, the fullness of their child.
Pickles and ice cream we found missing.
They were for his wife and their offspring.
Came to them soon a daughter or son,
coatless, as happens with their newborn young.
We had no more midnight kitchen guest.
He must have been too busy being blessed.
/ / /
This poem was written in response to Wordle 46 at The Sunday Whirl.