by Jnana Hodson

who knows exactly when it happened
that he realized he held more in common
with squirrels than any of his colleagues?

he couldn’t quite fly, no matter how much
he admired birds, and had climbed
enough trees as a kid to nearly qualify

still, he had little taste for nuts, other than cashews,
unless you mean a strange people,
and he rarely raked fallen leaves

maybe it was all a matter of some vague sense
he didn’t exactly belong in this apartment or house,
except by clandestinely rearranging his peculiar insulation

maybe it was simply a nickname
for the way he rummaged frenziedly in search
of some missing item suddenly remembered

he would dash, then, in and out of the trap
in and out of the trap and, with a snap,
wonder where he was being carried

Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems,
click here.