I watch as they run roun' and roun',

Up the tree and then back down.

 

Clenched in each cheek a sacred stone,

To keep alive when cold winds groan.

 

Back and forth betweext home and tree,

Dangling from branches with great glee.

 

To see them sway and brown leaves fall,

Those daring Imps want it all.

 

Gleaning each branch of its fruit,

Raping it  bare from top to root.

 

But, are we fools not to see

That they in their frenzy be,

 

Preparing for the time to come,

When all preparing will be done?

 

What then are we to learn from such?

Alot! I think so very much.

 

Of how prepared are we for life

When our souls are filled with strife?

 

Have we the courage to press on?

When all is bleak, all hope gone?

 

We do! If like the Imps have shown,

We've seeked and gleaned from what is known.

 

Will come to all and all who live,

That day when we'll have to give,

 

An accounting of what we've done.

Down to the last and bitter one.

 

So, lay up stores for that day

With zeal, avidity and Be Gay.

 

Then like the tree imps that I see,

We'll be prepared for eternity.