Flora & Ulysses

Actually, it wasn’t poetry.

Not yet.

So far, it was just a list of words that he wanted to turn into a poem.

The first word on the list was Jelly.

Jelly was followed by Giant donut, which was, in turn, followed by Sprinkle.

The list continued on with these words:

RITA!

Sunny-side up

Pascal

Giant squid

Little shepherdess

Vanquished

Capacious

Quark

Universe (expanding)

Blundermeecen

Banished

The list ended with the words of Dr. Meescham’s good-bye:

I promise to always turn back toward you.

The words were good words, Ulysses felt, maybe even great words, but the list was very incomplete. He was just getting started. The words needed to be arranged, fussed with, put in the order of his heart.

All of this is to say that when Flora’s mother read the list out loud, it didn’t sound terribly impressive.

“Gosh, that’s some swell poetry,” said George Buckman.

“Not really,” said William Spiver. “There’s no point in lying to him, even if he is a squirrel. It’s actually pretty lousy poetry. But I do like the last part, the part about turning back. That has some emotional heft to it.”

“Well, I think it is just great,” said Flora’s mother. “And I’m glad to welcome another writer into the family.”

She patted Ulysses on the head. Too forcefully, he felt. The pat approached violence.

“We are going to be one happy little family,” said Flora’s mother. She gave Ulysses another whack disguised as a pat.

“Really?” said Flora.

“Oh, yes,” said Flora’s mother.

There was a knock at the back door. “Yoo-hoo,” someone called out.

Tootie! thought Ulysses.

“Tootie!” said Flora.

“Mrs. Tickham,” said Flora’s mother. “Do come in. We were just reading some words that the squirrel typed. Ha-ha. We were reading some squirrel poetry.”

“William,” said Tootie, “I’ve been calling and calling you.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Well, I must admit that I wasn’t calling very loudly,” said Tootie. “What did Ulysses type?”

Flora’s mother read the list of words again.

Tootie put her hand over her heart and said, “Oh, those last lines are beautiful, heartbreaking.”

“Those last lines are the only bit of coherence in the whole thing,” said William Spiver.

“I’ve been inspired by Ulysses to write a little poetry of my own,” said Tootie.

Ulysses felt himself puff up. He had inspired Tootie! He turned and sniffed his tail.

“I’d like to read your poetry, Tootie,” said Flora.

“Well, we should have a poetry reading at some point. I’m sure Ulysses would enjoy that.”

The squirrel nodded.

Yes, yes. He would enjoy that.

He would also enjoy a bite to eat.

Dr. Meescham’s jelly sandwiches had been wonderful, but that was a long time ago. He would like to eat, and he would like for Tootie to read poetry to him. And he would like to work on his own poem.

Also, he would like for Flora’s mother to quit pounding him on the head, which she was doing again now.

“William,” said Tootie, “your mother called for you.”

“Did she?” said William Spiver. His voice was squeaky with hope. “Really? Did she ask for me to come home?”

“Unfortunately not,” said Tootie. “But it’s dinnertime. Come home with me and eat something.”

Home, thought Ulysses. That’s a good word. And dinner is a good word, too.

He turned back to the typewriter.

He searched for the H.