Erotic PoetryFrosted Beaver MoonSleek beaver nibbles on wood,
a timely plug placed in a gap and slapped
into submission with a bit of tail.
That fat tail of delicacy, you pelted little rodent.
Don't get lodged in the opening, baby,
use it to slip out into the stream.
Into water, where the waddle
turns into a graceful whirl
beneath the frost moon
reflection on the pond.
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English
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