Flying Nuisance Poem by Nightmist Moonshade
Flying Nuisance
Rating: ★5.0
Out of the misty blue,
They swarm with their squacking.
They fly fo their lives,
To my displeasure.
The hunters will soon be out,
They're running north.
The fools.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: running
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8/28/2026 6:08:12 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
