Caps on stalks stout or lean
Red, white and brown, but never green
On the wall, wood or soil damp
Alone or in a group they camp.
Oft picked up by a tiny tot
They brighten up a garden pot
For toads to sit down and muse,
A shelter they never refuse
Those caps on stalks, stout or lean.
Those dragon flies humming around
Rest atop to spy the ground
Beneath them, happy hoppers their wings fold.
Out of the rains and the cold
When out peeps the sun high up in the sky
Off they go, without a bye