But the hippos were bathing in the shallowest pools,
Thinking the rhinos and elephants fools.

Slowly the hippos sank into the river,
The water so cold that it gave them a shiver.

(Hippos can't swim, despite what you may think.
Since they also can't float, they could easily sink.)

They dove underwater to the soft river bed,
Onto darkish green plants with a smidgen of red.

They strolled on the bottom, then bounced up for air,
And they did it for hours, without any care.

The fish followed closely, weaving in, weaving out,
Swimming under their bellies, and up to their snouts.

And then, one by one, hippos headed for shore
To feed on the grass by the river once more.

They dried off their bodies by shaking and stomping
And took bites of grass, chewing and chomping.

With the night fading fast, they were full from the feast,
As the sun returned back, rising up from the east.

The hippos crept off to collapse for the day
While the rhinos and elephants got up to play.

Enjoying the warmth of the sun and its light,
Never knowing the story of hippos at night.

XX

NO DANCING AT THE DINNER TABLE!

When Taylor was a baby, he wiggled his toes.
When Taylor could walk, he jiggled his hips.
When Taylor got bigger, he started to dance.
Taylor danced anywhere, everywhere, and no one knew why.

On the way to school, he tap-danced.
On the way back, he shimmied and shook.
Getting clean in the tub, on top of his bed,
And out in the yard, Taylor danced.

One night his father had finally had enough.
"No dancing at the dinner table!" he shouted.
But it didn't stop there.

"No dancing in the car!" he yelled the next morning.
"No dancing in the store!" he hollered that weekend.
Until one day he said it: "NO DANCING AT ALL!"

But even if he wanted to, Taylor just couldn't stop.
So when Taylor was in school, he tapped his fingers.
When Taylor was in bed, he hummed to himself.
And when Taylor was alone, he danced.

It was hard to find places to dance all alone.
He tried the garage, but the car made it crowded.
He tried the closet, but his clothes kept on falling.
Finally he tried the basement.

And that's where he found a small, dusty, crusty piano.
He tapped his fingers on the keys and hummed a tune.
Then the tapping turned into playing, and the humming turned
into singing, and the noise turned into beautiful music.

Everyday, he played his song.
Taylor had never been so happy.

But one day his par