A duck to splash in the pond so free:
And then again I've pondered o'er
The hen that clucks near the barnyard door.
The guinea's life is freer than all,
She wanders off, nor listens to call,
But the pine cone chips that fall on me,
Remind me of squirrels far up in the tree—
The nuts they're gath'ring to store away
'Gainst skies of winter's cold and grey.
There's something else that skips so free