Silly squirrel, climbing up the telephone pole. I see you hop to the wire with a shake of your busy tail. You skitter across in a punctuated frenzy, taking me back to memories of my old home where you greeted me in the mornings like my own personal alarm clock.
I could hear you scurry and race around the great pine tree. I could hear you–the bark under your scratchy feet and your little voice–chirp chirp whirr. We'd fill the water bowl every morning for you. We'd hear when you'd tip it, metal against concrete, as the empty bowl would tip back, sounding the bell.
I would open the door and you'd scurry up the tree, sit there at a close distance watching me watch you. I'd put your bowl down and you'd wait for me to step back. I watched you from the screen door, right there; that screen between us was enough for you to feel secure. I'd watch you with your little hands, gripping the bowl. You'd shove your head down then bob it up real quick to make sure I wasn't going to catch you, and sometimes you'd keep one eye on me as you drank your water.
Silly squirrel, I miss you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
This is a poetry in motion. It sharp, witty and neat. I could scrabble up or down a branch easily, with this creature.
One question, what kind of squirrel was it?
Thanks, ZACL. I appreciate your kind words.
I think it was either an eastern gray squirrel or a fox squirrel.
Like your squirrel, I miss two cats I used to see.
I don't know the name of different kinds. But I feel yours is the cutest. I can almost see it. Hope he or she comes back, or her or his descendant will show up.
You write really well. That's good stuff.
Keiko, It was a cute squirrel. It was a special relationship and since I live in a difference place, I won't be able to enjoy as I did. But I'm happy to have the memory.
Thanks, Ryan.
Post a Comment