When the Spirit Moves Me

A Sonnet of Love to Animal Magnetism
 
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The beaver is the beast that I prefer,
though some suspect my choice a little queer,
still I adore its lustrous shiny fur,
as well as its resolve to persevere;
it holds its talents rare in high esteem,
it grinds sans interruption day and night,
it knows to work together as a team,
and best of all it has a goal in sight;
quite vocal it communicates with sounds,
each grunt and bark and moan uniquely cute,  
while oft we grunt and bark and moan in rounds,
if I should get the urge to follow suit;
and as we sing no matter what the key --
the beaver's tail yet keeps the beat with me . . .
 
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