Pockets of gold collect above tree trunks,
Leaving each base swaddled in low umbrage;
My quest today is to locate some skunks,
(An ambition of mine since a young age).
Viewed from above they seem to wear medals,
White metal slipped around their unkempt tails;
The forest critters keep them well fed, all!
So that their ‘lympic posture never fails.
But what attracts me most, of course, is stink,
A chance to sample nature’s grim defence;
My nose the beastly odour whole shall drink,
And relish every sensory offense.
Let me ask, before you judge: are my goals
Not just viewing locked doors as unfilled holes?