It isn’t that the seasons take away my pleasures I bask in in the summer; running carelessly about the fences and jumping from branch to branch. No.
It isn’t the shade from the sun, nor the darkest of clouds that hover over horizons I see from the top of these branches in this place I call home. No.
It isn’t the infestation of caterpillars that slither their way into every single crevice I’ve ever held dear to me and my family, eating away the lush green leaves that paint the exterior of my home. No.
It isn’t the bears the rummage in my little piles of stores I’ve secured away for winter lengths, nor the beavers that take my home for theirs. No.
It’s that blasted dog that jumps every single time he sees me, barreling away at the highest speeds to bark me all the way up the tree.
But, I suppose that I do provoke him with my constant chattering and taunting…
Röbert can be purchased here.