What a wonderful thing
is a pig in park. Mon Cheri
Cochon, let’s go for a walk;
you are my dearest,
my pig in a park.

At cartwheels he’ll balk
& with an oink, will
remark, when the
pleasure is mine — walking
sire swine in a park.

No, he’s not to eat
as indeed you can see,
but delight him with treats;
& he walks replete — my big
pig, NOT pork, in a park.

Now lightning bugs join us &
the sky falls dark. Children
break smiles as I dance
a jig & we’re happy to be
in a park with a pig.

© 2016 Anna Mosby Coleman