Bones of Contention **for Aaron only**

A band, quartet, mixed, produced by you two and not us.
You ask yourself, "Am I a hub productive enough?"
Do you lack the zeal? Are you sufficient religious?
'Tis not rocket-math, air-head, so move your dated duff!

Else mayhaps these three shall prevail and you'll owe hard cash!
Unless of course the 'Team H.' schema's a five-year-sham!
I fear not your aged bone, if I may be so brash,
So scramble on, and see if I give a holy damn!

Now, should you ever get so far, string them out to view:
Five, six, seven, eight, eleven, twenty-five, and then,
Just twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-eight, and forty-two.
On your mark... get set... forty-six and forty-seven!


Credits:
Sara - feedback & title

Spring Fantasy

In France, you might quite mistakenly wipe,
the front of your foot on me, and if I'm ripe,
I'll be your cat's dinner, or at least very sauced,
but I'd already be dead if left out in the frost.
For when it gets cold, I'm not one that lingers,
a month stuck between two little foot fingers.

I Spy

I spy with my little eye,
Something that is orange

Can you guess what it is?
You only get one try!

Identity Crisis

First I'm a woman, then I'm a male.
I'm surely a builder, but use not a nail,
If I sound kind of fishy, it's because I'm mixed up,
And if you observe moans, then I'm still not fixed up.
Truly, I could be either woman or man,
But who am I really? Tell me if you can.