Douglas Florian

Not gigan-tic. Not roman-tic. Not artis-tic. Not majes-tic. Not magne-tic. Nor aesthe-tic. Ticks are strictly parasi-tic.

Our high and mighty termite mound arises far above the ground, and just as deep, grows underground. Our nest is blessed to be immense.   It gives us all a firm defense, superior to any fence.   It shields us from our enemies.   It keeps us cooler, by degrees. From floods and droughts it guarantees.   A prize nobody will assign in architectural design, but still our hill suits us just fine.

A mayfly flies In May or June. Its life is over Far too soon. A day or two To dance, To fly— Hello Hello Good-bye Good-bye.

The giant water bug can lug His eggs upon his back. He gives them extra care up there And guards them from attack. The mother glues them to the dad, And on his way they stay. But does he ever get a card Or gift on Father's Day?