This is not a poem. Its just alliteration practice.
A beaver barking in the sun watches as birds scoop their meals from a teal liquor floor.
Equally green the river flows from beneath hills heeling along broad nearby plains.
Birds splash and ply. Beavers waddle and spackle. A river historicizes and inundates.
A beaver barking in the sun watches as birds scoop their meals from a teal liquor floor.
Equally green the river flows from beneath hills heeling along broad nearby plains.
Birds splash and ply. Beavers waddle and spackle. A river historicizes and inundates.