In an alphabet book that my grandson once liked,
One page unfamiliar
to me
Which, in
turn, got my curiosity spiked,
Was the
animal listed for P.
For a
pangolin isn’t your average beast,
But an
anteater covered in scales,
Looking
quite prehistoric from head to, not least
Of its
features, those long spiky nails.
It waddles
in search of its main source of food,
For which it
employs every sense,
Yet if
threatened, it is very quickly subdued;
Curling up is
its only defense.
I learned
all about this today on TV,
But I’m glad
that awareness was raised
In an alphabet
book on which, ages ago,
Both my
grandson and I once had gazed.
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