The big ape meanders through his northern forest home. His solitude is a comforting blanket that surrounds him. Singing songbirds, buzzing bees and running streams are the music of his world. Lost in thought, strolling alongside a river, the giant primate stops short, almost falling over an otter sitting on a rock.

"Hey there, Big Boy! It's that time of year!"

Bigfoot steps back. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

"Frederica, it has been awhile, a year actually." A groan emits from his throat. He sits on a rock.
He puts his head in his hands.

The otter giggles. "You are such a big hit in the world of poetry, the poet laureate of the woods.
And National Poetry Day is tomorrow. Our annual poetry recitation event is tomorrow. Your presence is mandatory."

Frederica turns and dives into the river, swimming away.

Bigfoot gets up and leans against a tree. He struggles with his sensitive soul. Music soothes him, drawing comforts him, cooking is art in motion and poetry flows out of his soul. Yes, it is that time of year. North America's primate will be the master of ceremonies on National Poetry Day.

The next day, in a clearing next to a waterfall, fifty poets of the forest wait patiently for Bigfoot. Upon his arrival, the animals stand and bow. He is the poet laureate of their world. He has an air of confidence about him but inside, jitters abound in his belly. He tries not to shake. The big ape wonders why he easily evades capture from humans but poems turn him to mush.

Frederica the otter guides him to his place near the waterfall. Bigfoot clears his throat.

"Shall we begin?"

A Great Horned Owl swoops down and perches on a branch. His voice has a musical feel to it.

I am Hooty
and I want your booty

your wings I caress
I will not make a mess

Hoo Hoo Hoo
I want you, you, you

An angry squirrel throws an acorn at him.

"Do we have to listen to you every year?! You would think by now, you could create something else besides that crap!"

Bigfoot intervenes. "Now Cleo, poetry is a matter of taste. Many of our forest friends appreciate our friend's ability to rhyme." Bigfoot just wants to keep the peace. Many of the verses spoken today would be a far cry from Shakespeare.

"The point of today is to create and express oneself."

The owl gave Bigfoot a bow and flaps his wings.

A fox lets out a laugh. "I love his booty poem. It is spring and I am after some booty!"

Bigfoot looks up at the sky. This could be a long day.

A wolf is up next.

Your heart next to mine
with you I live
each day
providing for our
little ones
observing the
night sky
til our
earthly journey
ceases

He howls at the end. The forest creatures bow and nod. Bigfoot is touched and moved. "Excellent poem, Mr. Wolf!"

"Call me Pickles."

Bigfoot is not sure he hears him. "Did you say your name is Pickles?"

The wolf is annoyed. "Yes, my name is Pickles. You have a problem with my name?"

Bigfoot shakes his head. He refrains from asking the wolf how he obtained the name of Pickles.
"No problem. I didn't hear you. Excellent work......Pickles."

Next a rabbit hops over and begins reciting her poem.

My cottontail
my precious behind
sees the forest
from a different
perspective

The squirrel groans and the fox laughs. The rabbit continues.

my bunny behind
views the world
as I seek
food
and refuge
from my
enemies

Bigfoot compliments her on the uniqueness of her words. The fox tilts his head in awe. Her poem draws the listener in and then leads in another direction.

A skunk is up next. He clears his throat and shakes his tail. All the forest creatures back up but it is just his routine before he recites his verse. Another skunk joins him but stands behind.

Winter!
You arrive with strength!

The skunk behind waves his paws as if snow is falling. He then flexes his front paw as if he has muscles.

spring shows her beauty
flowers arise

The second skunk puts a flower in his mouth.

summer's lovely warmth
brings music out
in force

A chorus of cardinals swoop down and sing in unison. The fox is annoyed.

"What is with the sound effects!? This is dumb! Just recite your frigging poem!"

The skunk isn't fazed. He continues reciting his poem.

autumns' bright colors
peak
then fade
into winter's arms

Both skunks hug each other while the cardinals resume singing. Most of the animals enjoy the performance. The fox is mumbling under his breath. "What a weirdo!"

Bigfoot claps his hands. "Wonderful! Bingo and his brother Bango, never cease to amaze us with their creativity." In his thoughts, Bigfoot yearns for an alcoholic beverage.

Several other forest dwellers recite various forms of verse, everything from haiku to ballads. Bigfoot is impressed by much of what he hears. He requests that the title of Poet Laureate be transferred to a deer with a flair for creating sonnets. She refuses. Bigfoot retains his title.

The large primate motions for all the forest creatures to form a circle.

"A group poem will be a fitting ending to our celebration".

Bigfoot: the yellow sun sets
and rises
the trees embrace
a new day

The fox looks downward but joins in.

flowers laugh
at the falling
rain

Next the otter speaks.

buttercups
so yellow
friends of mine

The sound of guns firing is heard off in the distance. The forest creatures are startled and
scatter into the woods. Bigfoot is not fazed. He laughs and ambles into the woods, also disappearing into the trees. A rescue by humans on the day of the year he is the most vulnerable. A soul exposed. The group poem will be completed a year from now on the next National Poetry Day. Bigfoot goes on with his life.