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A squirrel is dying
curled up in the elbow
of the tree he has loved

the day is unbearably
muggy and hot
the dog approaches
sniffs the tree's bark
and wanders off

a squirrel is dying
and a lizard
blinks on the next limb
keeping watch

we can pretend
it is empathy
and not just instinct,
a lizard escaping the heat
in the shade
of the great tree

We can pretend
the squirrel
is just tired
and in need
of a long sleep
Makes me sad, observed with my niece
Two great trees
anchored in my
brother's backyard

The first,
scraggly leaved
with a delicate
smooth trunk
that slopes up
to power lines-
tucked in
these sinuous branches
is a mockingbird nest

The second
is a brute of a tree
squat but strong
and rough barked
and crowned with
the broadest leaves
I've ever seen,
mushrooms grow
in the hollow of one root
and it's home to
a squirrel family

The birds and the squirrels
feud before our eyes
mockingbirds swoop
and scream
at kits who get too close
to little fledglings
so squirrels flee, scurrying
along the power line, chattering

I watch the battles unfold
squinting in the sun
while you hold my
and I think that
someday soon
I will be
a bad ***
mama mockingbird
Soon but not too soon :)
Poetic T Jun 6
The chirps of feathered friends
   serenaded her to sleep.
hues of magical memories that
fluttered upon her every dream.

You see she wasn't like you & me,
more unique than you could think.
She heard voices, but couldn't see
                                 a friend or foe.

You see she was a princess, with a
strict father who forbid  magic of
any kind. She meet a squirrel in the
forest and happened to see him
carrying his horde of nutty delights..
I swear I'm losing my nuts,
  glad you aren't losing yours little one.

"Me no, I know everywhere I've hid mine,
               I hide them so well I cant find
               them later, now that's nuts...

now that's good hiding your majesty.

"Did you just talk?

   Did you just understand my joke?

Nuts, your a whisperer, my lady.

           "I'm a what, what...

Please, whisper, there are ears everywhere.
             We used to have many friends
to talk too. But you are the first in generations.
                                           The others
they became candles that were extinguished.

My Father he doesn't like magic, he forbids its
words, actions. Even if it was to help he would..

         "Never let the snake bite you,

"the Snake,

"Your father is of magic, he absorbs those
he burns. the wood has runes etched into
its bark.. and a silent spell so they cant call
out to the others of there kind..

"Never shoe your value to him, for he will
                  not falter in his quest for dominance
of the elements and others. We tried to stop
him an age ago. But he burnt half the nation
to stop us... he used his whisper to make others
forget that he breath the fire from on high.

He pulled a star from the heavens to scorch us,
        we haven't tried since...
please be aware, be cautious.. learn your gift for
when you are older and learn to use others with
there offering you may fulfil your destiny as the
whisper of the wood..

Long live the queen of whispers...
Paul Horne Apr 24
No mean to offend,
young laddie,
a point, if I may
It’s ‘Quirrels, not Squirrels

..a difference of ways

Not all big bushy tails
have ‘Quirrels

Maybe pedantic,
this dance with semantics
perhaps, but

more than
a letter amiss
or our ginger tinge
to explain with this,
the Them and Us, they,
while swing from tiny twig,
we’ll seek the tallest tree, fly,
fall, all, as always, without a fuss,
them, no fearsome frights, no sense
fun or adventure, they’ve little rewards
no risks, no treasures

So cute, so cuddly?
so canny, so needy,
with greedy grabby razor Teeth....

Hard lives to fulfil, you’d think!
flitting from bark to branch,
boring and every day,
dressed in grey
while us,
ducks and dodges
tankers and trucks
between the wheels, but

chance is our dash;
life in the moment
or squished in a flash

...That’s how it rolls,
fast and loose, the Lowlands,
life without stale imitations.

Red or dead.

And never enough mush,
only enough for another
furry, fat Squirrel
This poem plays with two truisms; the Scots aren’t overly keen on the English and the Red Squirrel population (the ‘Quirrels in the poem ) has been all but wiped out in England by the grey squirrel. Most of the remaining Reds are now found in Scotland, presumably not there for the weather! The poem is a conversation between a ‘Quirrel and some poor badger he’s cornered, probably in some Glasgow pub towards the end of the night when he’s a bit worse for wear. The idea was to keep the rhythms random mimicking the way a squirrel / ‘quirrel runs, stop, start, quick, slow, but never smooth and never straight.
I never understood the squirrels around this place. Their behavior is horrible in the extremes. I remember a squirrel that laid on his belly in the courtyard and didn’t move for a significant amount of time unbecoming of a squirrel. Did he not know he was making a scene? I’m pretty sure he didn’t care. Because there he laid, for the namely masses to past and stare. Then there was the time I was riding my bicycle, minding my own business. A squirrel was running and hit my leg and petal. I was so shocked I couldn’t believe it happened. What did I ever do to that squirrel to warrant such a random attack? I’m lucky I didn’t fall over in fright and injure myself. If this keeps up, I’m pretty sure the squirrels are planning a united ******* to ruin my mental state.
This is one of my UA poems. Written before 12-7-2012. Squirrels are strange at the University of Alabama. I guess they are too use to people.
I have realized I have a very unstable mental state.
Like I'm pretty sure we have all seen that person on the street.
Where your first thought is, "yea they are on something".
That person is in control of my brain.
For example, a typical Friday night goes something like.

" I hate myself // you hate me // I love you // you love me but you actually hate me // I'm hungry // I want to die // sometimes I wish I was a squirrel // it would cool to have a pet sea monster // I hate myself".

But it's not all bad.
It feels like I have become aware of my emotions.
Being able to choose when something is funny, sad, or frustrating.
It's like a superpower that doesn't always work. Being able to smile on rainy days, is nice.
But not crying for losing someone close to you can be jarring to handle.
I am drowning in the dark ocean comprised of my anxiety and depression.
Losing oxygen and the will to try and swim back up.
I sink to the bottom, just to realize I can stand up.
This is part of a project I am doing called the colour wheel. It is a draft piece and isn't very organized right now. I would love feedback moving forward with it.
Jon Thenes Nov 2019
thrifty fat tree rat

hibernal conditions bid

burrow and becalmed
Nova Nov 2019
The squirrel hops from one tree to another.
Not a care in the world.
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