Ever seen a squirrel caught in a bramble?
A seeming escape leading nowhere?
He could tell you.
* * *
He could tell you
he’s lucky to still be alive.
* * *
There are those who insist love is nothing more
than a seasonal disorder, an allergy or a virus.
Makes sense when you’re speaking of Sick With Love.
But how do you cope dealing with females
happier with thorns than leaves and berries?
Or when confronted by some dog?
* * *
Running along a phone line, a squirrel
never falls over. To hell with gravity.
It’s the strength of those long, skinny toes
can reach around a stick. Hold tight.
Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems, click here.
Jnana's Red Barn 
Never can you feel a love
a love so soft that touch to warmth
yet when cold and still in night
gives shudders..owl is in
and spa row flew out