Year of the Spirit Flanimal

A holiday fable by EKR

Did you hear the magnificent moose
Among the maples call?
She’s got your scent; she’s on to you.
‘Tis the Year of the Flanimal.

This festive time of fuzz and fun
Will reach its plaid potential.
You’ll need to search, hide, dance and run.
‘Tis the Year of the Flanimal.

The bearded hawk is on the hunt
‘Cause someone stole a whisker
From her—yes, her—full-bristled beak.
She spots that sneaky tickler.

The booted rabbit, once it wakes,
Darts from its safety deep.
It leads the chase to winter red;
From a darkened hole it leaps.

The fox has stalked the hole all night,
Attracted by the scent.
He weasels in the rabbit home
To find a skunk instead.

The thick allure like syrup sticks
And brings unlikely friends
To the mapled skunk, who taunts and flaunts
His Canadian-smelling end.

The sights, the smells, the forest bells,
The colored leaves appealing.
They summon tufts from every land.
Reclaim that cozy feeling.

Bear with me, here, and you will see
The ursa slumbering.
He’s cozy in his blanket fort;
Of porridge hot he dreams.

Flying past the cold North Star,
The owl calls to his kind.
You’ll only hear his song if you
Are like in soul and mind.

Now race the cougar’s pearly whites,
Propelled by claw and paw.
Her gleaming eye, her wild tail—
Methinks she’s passion raw.

Sh! Silent stealing through the wood,
The bandit masked and small
Finds treasures fair and treasures old
In trash and leaves that fall.

But careful, now, because the leaves
Hide something much less kind.
Pardon—just her quills, not heart.
Forgive me, porcupine.

While yonder a young caribou
Sprints to his mother’s side,
And farther still, the wolf she howls,
And to the moon confides.

Do you feel the pull, the tug, the draw?
The lush of flannel calls.
Wear your wild and feel the fire,
‘Tis the Year of the Flanimal.

To home we must all travel quick,
The flanimals gather near.
They call for you, will you call back?
Whose song is it you hear?