The Sloth

Michael M. Lederman, Daniel R. Kuritzkes


I nearly saw a three-toed sloth

I really hoped to see one

But as I crept up on the beast

He sped off like a demon


How did this lazy fellow do it?

My legs were gelled, encased in suet

Insensate speed was needed now

That wily sloth could sprint, and how!

I called upon my last reserves

To stay with him through streams and curves

He would not give this race a rest

Just like those hounds of Budapest

His limbs a blur, his eyes agleam

His ears pressed back, his goggles seem

To mask his real intent, his dream

To master speed and be the Dean 

Of hustle.


poems, poetry, nature, biology, sloths

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Copyright (c) 2019 Michael M. Lederman and Daniel R. Kuritzkes

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