SEASONS OF PLAY

as a chorus, the pigeons coo
the mockingbird invents endless variations

the vernal pools erupt in peepers
under the lofty moon

*   *   *

there’s no team
named for his kind
or hers

no Mighty Squirrels
on the field
or the court

a squirrel is not a hero figure
no Cary Grant or James Bond
though maybe an outfielder or a forward
as for the ladies?
a swish of ponytail? or a scamper?

yes, we are born naked
with our eyes closed

*   *   *

it’s the grip, after all
to measure
to treasure

*   *   *

tra-la-la
as they sing

only that cartoon character Rocky
with the moose

or the skunks under the barn

awaiting comedy
while the leaves fell

to speak of simultaneous balance
and signaling

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

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