Sloth

In moving slow he has no Peer,

You ask him something in his Ear,

He thinks about it for a Year;

And, then, before he says a Word

There, upside down (unlike a Bird),

He will assume that you have Heard

A most Ex-as-per-at-ing Lug.

But should you call his manner Smug,

He’ll sigh and give his Branch a Hug;

Then off again to sleep he goes,

Still swaying gently by his Toes,

And you just know he knows, he knows.

The Sloth

A poem by Theodore Roethke

Height - 473mm (18.6”)

Width - 325mm (12.8”)

Deoth - 187mm (7.4”)