Sloth in a Box

I look through slitted eyes,
At the home that I have left,
Slowly, slowly something comes to me,
Someone has taken me from my tree,
And has put me somewhere else,
Where is this place I have been put in,
It is not my beautiful home,
The tall Cecropia I loved so much.
I hear a humming sound,
But don’t know what it is
I see that I am moving,
But what is moving me,
I do not know.
I cannot move around,
For I am stuck right side up,
Only slowly looking around is all I can pull off,
I don’t know what they put me in,
But as I hold onto the sides
I see that it surrounds me.
I know this is not a hole,
For I do not live in one,
It isn’t upside down,
So I cannot hang from it,
Only with my three large toes,
Do I hold on to this thing,
Until someone brings me out,
Will I know what I am in.
The moving thing has stopped now,
And a loud bang sounds,
I see something come near me,
It looks to me then to another,
It says something,
That takes me a while to understand,
And as I tilt my slow moving head,
As I finally realize his words,
“The sloth in the box,
What shall we do with it?”
The thing says as it looks at me.
A box… that is what I am in?
What is a box,
What is this thing they put me in?
Is it my new home,
Will I never see my tree again?
For I do not know these answers,
I will just have to wait and see,
But for now it seems to me,
That I am merely a sloth in a box,
And will probably forever be.