he could hole up
with long-suppressed luminous temperaments
if only he could scale every surface except glass
shimmy up the black steel pole and raid the bird feeder
hang upside down from a sunflower
moving toward transition
an untested dream
from the stockpile admits to darling insecurity
in the hole the tree the ground
faint implausible rhythms chirps more lasting
if not so lucrative
* * *
every tree branches, so you choose in a flash
and keep running in the desert he had wondered
about squirrels so far from the nearest tree
the ones who live in burrows
whether somewhere they’d made a wrong turn
a deer makes a bigger target
than foraging for dynamite
Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems, click here.
Jnana's Red Barn 