25 Aug
A watching squirrel holds
vertically to the trunk of a tree with tail curling down.
It doesn't move until we are almost next to it. 

Then stealths up
into the concealing foliage but still intently
observing from its semi-hidden seat.

Murphy sees too and points her snout as if to ask
"May I spring and catch it?" She assumes
I am such a killjoy.

Leave a comment

Posted by on August 25, 2021 in Poetry


Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: