Science  Write  Now

Share article
On Sundays, my neighborhood smells

of laundry, lilac blooms running out

of vents in search of pasture.

In summer, air conditioners rumble

beneath cumulus sprinkled skies. Last night,

the armadillos marched in. Locked but not loaded.

They camped beneath my neighbor’s trees.

Took late-night snacks on his lawn

then mine. I can’t help but like their waddle

from his maples to my dogwoods.

I like watching them dig up my mulch,

arming themselves with fuel.

But I know my neighbor.

I know their time is limited.

The science inspiring the piece:

Read about armadillos in Missouri in the US (over the past couple of decades, they have migrated up from Texas, through Arkansas, to Missouri).

Listen to Dave read the poem: