There once was a vole named Marvin.
Marvin lived in a field outside a house;
that home had a difficult fate, in two parts.
Marvin had friends and there was a dragon.
Age was immaterial, so was rank.
Marvin made a way in the world.
A way from the hole in the meadow
to whatever it is that voles eat.
That was not part of the story.
Is not in the narrator's voice.
There were wanderings and hard turns.
But not today, that was a few yesterdays back.
Voles have a lot to do to stay out of the hands
of ancient beasts and hawks.
Marvin is still in that prairie
making a home in the back of my head.
Roman Ryan 