Hog, Wild

Once upon a time,
There were three WWOOFers
On the farm.

They survived on very little (mostly beans & seaweed),
but camp was a warm place.

They attributed this to the gift, of bacon.

It came from the last generation to occupy those lands.

And from that legacy, the tradition sprouted and grew.
(The new WWOOFers gave it life!)
There, together, huddled in the profundity of the deep woods,
They shared their bacon: the holy grail.

Weeks passed.
Somehow, there was always bacon.
And so, then, there was always love & magic (or magic & love too).
Unfortunate universal reminder: this could never last.

One day, the bacon did, in fact, actually, run out.
No travelers came through with offerings of pork & riches,
It looked like the bacon was really finished.

The WWOOFers were sad.
In the dusky evening they climbed the watertower and
Called out their longing & devotion to the heavens!
The cries echoed through the forest and over the land.

What happened next,
They did not expect:
A reply to their impassioned plea!

Along came Phil,
From over the hill,
Missing his two front teeth!

I gotta pig. You
Can lend a hand to.
Come ’n learn, the magic of your food.

The WWOOFers were ecstatic,
They danced like a crazy batik.
Happy, skipping, tree sprites laughing all the while.

And then, my dear, I do believe,
The WWOOFers proceed & take their leave, to
Live Happily Ever After.
THE END

Phil, This one\’s for you. Thanks for the opportunity to experience bacon firsthand, and learn exactly whats where and how to for. You really are an inspiration. Plus, I needed justification for posting this:

Have some love and respect for where your food comes from!
BAM. I AM.