The Squirrel

The canopy of yellow-greens surrounds
A fervent worker of the forest-wood,
He sits upon a branch, with husky sounds,
Scritch-scratching out the woodland’s greatest good.
With tawny fur he scratches at the nut,
With boisterous hands he claws his knotty prize,
With passioned teeth he bites and works to glut
His epic hunger under cloudy skies.
The frigid air pursues his industry,
Four dazzled humans wonder at his ways,
He gnaws on high, and struts majestically,
As life idyllic blesses all his days.
He needn’t worry, nor does he complain-
Man marvels at the beautiful mundane.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-October 14, 1009