Rabbit Yawns & Chicken Sneezes

	Our Northern place is home to fur and cluck.
	The eldest fur belongs to one named Muff,
	Who hops and sniffs at twelve with twitching nose.
	The eldest cluck belongs to one named Sue,
	Who lays despite her baker's dozen years.

	When Dawn descends upon our urban home,
	She queries Muff and Sue about their spans:
	"So, how can fur and cluck have lived this long?"
	Our Muff, with fur and ears of brown, now yawns.
	He's first to speak with Dawn and answer give:

	"You know," says Muff, "it's digging keeps me young."
	With paws, I burrow past my earthly time.
	Each day, I scratch and claw my goals in dirt.
	I gain a month for every tunneled inch.
	Those folks who've stopped their work are feeling age."
			
	A rustle heard within our lemon tree
	Stops Muff from speaking all he would to Dawn.
	The noise is Sue, our eldest, whitest hen.
	She roosts in fruited tree to breath its scent,
	But wings to ground to share the view she holds:

	"For me, the leaves and sky are balms of youth.
	My comb stays red with hues of green and blue.
	My feathered coat stays white with fluffy clouds.
	My eye is bright, as brightest sunny day.
	Those folks who live with walls can't say the same."

	When Sue has clucked her thoughts, she starts to sneeze,
	And fading Dawn says "hi" to Early Light.
	Both Muff and Sue, awake more fully now,
	Give earth and leaf and sky their greetings, too.
	Then, Muff does dig, and Sue does lay an egg.