At the far end of town
Where the Grickle Grass grows
And the wind smells sour when it blows
And no birds ever sing excepting old crows
It’s hard to believe such a thing could be true,
And I hope such a thing never happens to you.
But it happened, they say, to Kenneth Stirling Park.
And it happened like this…
One cache
Two cache
Red cache
Blue cache
I love to cache. I could cache each day.
I follow my GPS all the way.
I find the cache under a log.
I write my name in the log.