he could die now
flattened by wheels
electrocuted, biting a live wire
poisoned
or simple disease
or drown

all the complications, amassed

*   *   *

somewhere, in the limbs
what had riled him so early?
Blue Jay
squawking
could be confused
for squirrels

(What was the opera, anyway? Certainly not Cinderella
with her matching fur slippers)

unlike Cardinal
or those who keep a steady pace
each sunrise

each species      how much     bite off and chew
bury the rest     now     in a fury     neighbors     gain consciousness
take aim     if they can     brush the turret

*   *   *

Was she more rabbit or possum?
“Oh, but possums are meaner – they have more teeth
and they’re sharp” – well matched, in the end

*   *   *

knowing all the same          they’ll be back
dawning alarm not of squirrels but outraged jays
surround a marauding crow

every jay within a mile or two assembles for attack
one after another, they dart at a wincing intruder
that finally departs, offended

already crows lay siege to a mockingbird nest
they pestered before destruction
try as you will, you can’ prevent much

even when striving for balance
still, you undertake what you can
alarmed, yes, and full of frustration,
load and fire the kid’s super-saturation water gun

startle a few squirrels raiding the bird feeder
knowing, all the same, they’ll be back
yet hoping he can prevent them

*   *   *

stripping the black walnut tree
after the strawberries and blueberries
all in their brief season

*   *   *

from the instrument he carries across thin snow
duty said nothing     children, you know

domestic matters and adventures
of mice and squirrels and the manor

gingerbread, the squirrels and rabbits love to nibble

*   *   *

before the endless domestic encounters

Snakes in the basement.
Bees streaming
from the barn’s
loose siding.

I’ve lived many places:
I’ve lived nowhere
but the wind
or the workplace
until now.

*   *   *

keep the shell healthy     for all within
he once thought, ignoring     the empty fruit basket

he would learn there are jobs a man does
as if that, in itself, is sufficient qualification

what does he know     now the world’s shrinking
save for trash removal?     tell him, then, the eternity of hell

is different from the eternity of paradise
one just won’t end     the other seems a flash

it’s no different than becoming conscious

abed they listen     in winter night scratching inside old house walls

all the same      she rolls toward him

he could depart as an old man     baffled by suspenders to his pants
while his wife’s away     having her hair styled

all along, his lady has been a holy terror     as much as any
holy mother     even so, they always get envelopes in the mail

*   *   *

he could be the squirrel at the bay window
or that whistle

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

he’s not a bird
eating fish
or worms

see how frantically he spades
without weeding

how voraciously he climbs out
on the seeded maple twigs

*   *   *

incisor
domestica

rodentia
in residence

*   *   *

a squirrel with a martini
too much     too often
fog in treetops     before the wind blows

how     do sparrows remember
once nested in this eave     before rats or squirrels
found them out?

if it were only hickory nuts for high-fat content     he’d
look shiny      with such thought     snickering abounds     how is it
they acquire a taste for the Big Bad Wolf     who bought the house?

*   *   *

nobody charged extra
for the vermin

*   *   *

in the walls                                        they’re all wild creatures
of course, considering the jerry-rigged affairs
the preceding landholders had undertaken within this plot

(oh, the stories the neighbors were relating, all hinting
at more scandalous expansions now lost to posterity,
nobody could remember much in the way of detail,
except for the wild noises and all the coming and going)

the remaining evidence held no apologies

so what if we live
in cages of our own making?     we still escape
into further flames or muck or fencing, all depending
on the company we keep
everyone’s a social creature,
the chattering
he’d considered birds was more or less
incensed squirrels, tearing about his estate

with that obscene flick of the tail

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

yes, they lived in a small city where he would

Pull maple seedlings, in spring
Mow the lawn, in summer
Rake the leaves, in autumn
Watch out for falling ice, in winter

they should be celebrating
all this wonder,
opportunity, unacknowledged ritual,

never-wrapped presence
now, light another candle
looking ahead, then, and looking back

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

to be as prolific as zucchini
as radiant as sunflower
as stubborn as dandelion

turning the doorknob

*   *   *

chance upon friends
some parading with drums
some waiting to dance
some displaying their hybrid autos
some discussing seed varieties

how many from back home
how many at this crossroads

still, we retreat
before the blue sky fades from this year’s harvest

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

 

squirrels thrive, after all, largely solo
apart from the mating chase or bout
though they’ll sleep six or seven together yet
repeated delays that autumn allowed little rest

and precluded burying nuts as well as his lady’s
daffodil and iris bulbs et cetera packed away
what they could, hoping they could cobble a nest

*   *   *

or any of the time-bombs
ticking away

among the not-so-everyday matters

*   *   *

you think you’re settled, but you’re not

in any of the different schools of thought

*   *   *

even on a clouded night, the stars incant
“Look where you are, in your small space”

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