Unhurried Seeks the Pauper
by Steve Wagner

Unhurried seeks the Wombat
He’s never known of pride
He slugs a slow and sullen pace
As once he was derived

But still he has a twinkling face
And brightness in his eyes
And when asked about the night before
He tells the simpl’st of lies

Some state they’ve seen his beggared grin
Unmasked from stress and scorn
Detached beneath his lonely skin
And plucked into the morn’

Still, his beam is doubtful;
A fleeting bug of light
And if you come to catch it,
Watch it squirm into the night