The Feral Government

                                                 There's a feral government in the doghouse now
                                                 That has rejected a domesticated policy;
                                                 Which has led to a snarling war raging through the farmyard
                                                 So that not even the chickens are safe in their trees.

                                                 A stream of battered and displaced creatures begins
                                                 As unnerving reports trickle in from the fields and woods—
                                                 There's talk of paw-kindled fire and billows of acrid smoke
                                                 From skirmishes and battles to loot the neighbors' goods.

                                                 The barn's in quarantine and the gate's tightly closed
                                                 And no animal ventures out once the sun has gone down.
                                                 But sharp cries of counterstrokes and of change drift here and there;
                                                 Though for now it's all just words, and action plays the clown.