The King Poem by Larry Schreckengost

At the crest of a steep hollow
Is where I met this noble fellow
An Alabama pine of tremendous girth
Laid out dead, upon the earth

Had this monarch's fall from grace
Found his final resting place
I pray my foot won't tip the scale
And roll us both down to hell
A benevolent pat, then a push or two
As I climb up to peruse

Once towering high, filling sky
Now that he's down, men scuff his crown
While chipmunks dance as jesters
Quite happy with my new perch
From here the woods I will search
A doe for the pot or a buck for the braggart's table

For now I"ll have a bite to eat
Vowing not to fall asleep
Curious how this all took place
Was it like a star from space
Did his subjects come from the nearby town
The day the king came crashing down

The wind is cold, likely close to dark
I'll warm myself from a slab of bark
The Game will be moving soon
I must be on alert
I may find a superior vantage to peer for deer
But this old log would be nowhere near