Squirrel Town

Squirrels in red oak, white oak, black oak, bear oak,
squirrels in the hickories: mockernut, shagbark, bitternut, pignut;
squirrels scampering in red maple, black locust, sourwood, walnut,
squirrels in jack pine, pitch pine, loblolly pine,

squirrels attached like Velcro to the 27 kinds of bark,

the rippled, pocked, stippled bark,
the wet bark, dry bark, the steaming bark, the snowy bark,
inhaling the living bark

running the length of trunk and bough,
up and out the long branches, breezing into space

to catch the other side;
squirrels handling the pine cones,
squatting on stumps, on rocks, on logs,

squirrels on fenceposts, on birdfeeders, bounding across lawns,
squirrels scolding, clicking, barking, whining,

squirrels on tightwire above the ugly road,

squirrels running urgently, wild with excitement
at the 4000 acorns dropping from every oak, and what to do?
What to do with them all?

Squirrels upright on haunches, paws clasped to mouth
as in prayer — but eating,
eating the nutmeats — then

nut-drunk, racing into the road straight for the wheels,
undecided, back again, forward, back,

a skitter and a blur of limbs,
white fur, gray fur.

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About David

Prone to musing and to being prone. Father to two, writer, engineer.
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Squirrel Town

  1. Thats awesome.

    So many great images, magical descriptions and utterly wonderful language.

    Great poem.

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