Fiona collected ferrets for as long as she could remember. Long ones, short ones, thin ones, chubby ones, alive ones, dead ones, stuffed ones, porcelain ones. She collected the lot. For years she never quite knew why she collect ferrets, until one day everything just fell into place. The press labelled it Ferret Day! And the city was never the same again…
© Carl Burkitt 2019
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2019 – a poem a day celebrating an interesting US national day.
