An Ode To The Horny Toad

They used to roam the Texas plains, The deserts and the valleys. In summer's heat and driving rains, Amidst the cactus and the gullies. On swarming anthills, they would tarry, Armored like the Abrams tanks. And stuff their tummies, with all they could carry, Then into the heavy underbrush they sank. Tiny clones of Dinosaurs, covered in spines, They would wander with disdain. Eating ants all they had in mind, They would roam till the day would wane. Left over remnants, of a world long gone, Completely harmless, and so unique. And now they just don't roam, Their future now extremely bleak. The joy they would bring, back in my day, As they scampered by hundreds on the ground. Little ones, big ones on the Texas clay, There was no place they could not be found. And now you would be hard pressed, To even find them in the wild. Oh to hold one in my hand once more just to caress, This tiny being so defiled. Somewhere in the hills on some rocky slope, Somewhere in the vastness of it all. A baby horned toad must be our hope, We must not let this creature fall. If not for man they would greatly thrive, The urban sprawl has done them in. Somehow, someway, they must find life, An extinction would be the cruelest sin. An ode to a horny toad my friends, The armored Texas legend. Whether he lives or dies depends, On the generosity of men. 3/17/2016 29 Palms Ca,