Pickle the Puffin

It is a little-known fact, and a bit of a shame
that puffins cannot choose their own name
They have to do this for each other you see
And this must be done most carefully
There is a ceremony for the young pufflings
Fidgeting they huddle, nudging and shuffling
The smallest puffin nervously waddled with eyes down
He kicked at the pebbles as the elders stared and frowned
His little heart beat in his muffin shaped chest
All the puffins received their name until only he was left
Noisily discussing and puffing themselves importantly
They all looked at each other nodding heads to agree,
“Well, he does tend to get himself in a bit of a pickle”
So, there you have it, Pickle! They all lovingly giggled
Pickle went a little pink in the cheeks and smiled happily
Tripping over slightly as he ran to join his new family

All artwork and poems copyright protected by the Artist. Sarah Reilly, Love Country by Sarah Reilly. All rights reserved.