Squirrels gather nuts,
to prepare for the Winter.
They plan very well.

let the gawkers
make haste
may thier
make
it
frozen clay

showers
of
frost

clung teardrops

my depths deaths
shall they swallow
birds admiration
aspirations
on
man

that an bird would ask it's wings
why it it you choose
to feather me
tickle me
from
the
sky



ask let why
that my flesh be
peeled
from
the
back


of
mine
eyes
say not
let the gawkers
?











...
..
.

You see me Hurrying and scurrying
Gathering my food cautiously,
Looking around constantly worrying
Sneaking around precociously.

Weaving; bobbing, always dodging
Bushy tailed little scavenger I am,
So may despise me as I dwell in their lodging
But all I want is a home so don't give a dam.

Climbing my tree like a famous mountaineer
Old and young will wave or sit and say hello,
Quickly I think it's time to evacuate from here
The all clear I see and again on the ground I go.

Fluffy and Grey sometimes even Red
Speeding around among the leaves,
Time to nest and put my children to bed
Until once more the summer itself retrieves.

Grant Dickson 04/09/2017

This poem was inspired by a Squirrel

"More squirrels"
She exclaims
And I wonder what
In the world
Could it be
This particular time!?*

It usually starts like this...

Every once in a while
I find her
Lost
In her own thoughts
Gazing
At nothing in particular
But everything
At once.

At times
Like these
She is a genius
Gone crazy.

I catch a glimpse
Of those star-bound eyes
And try
To guess
The stride
Of her imagination
Without
Much luck.

Could she be thinking about…
A universe made entirely out of glass?
Why humans don’t have a tail
Anymore?
Reasons behind love at first sight?
Or what to name the 3rd butterfly
She saw today?

In her picture perfect
Stillness
I can viscerally sense
A divine flow
Of thoughts
And it evokes in me
The wonder
That one experiences
While watching
A calm river flow
Knowing
Turbulent currents
Are ever present
Just hidden
Deep inside.

If I
Shake her vigorously
I know for sure
At least 23 ideas
And 47 musings
Will fall around
And we will
laugh hilariously.

But I dare not
For the fear
Of my life.
She is an artist
Painting
With her imagination
And you
Don't disturb artists
Do you?

Once she’s back
To the material realm
She comments
Randomly
About how we need
More squirrels
In the world.

I almost always
Immediately concur.
Then slowly ask
“why?”.

She gives me
One of those looks.
Like the ones
You give your dog
When it’s looking
At you eating food
And you’re deciding
If you should
Give it a small bit
Or not.

If I am
persistent enough
She gathers
All her thoughts
And illustrates
With one of the most
Amazing stories
The important role
Of squirrels
To save our
Doomed world.

After listening
To her
Seemingly logical
And
Completely weird
Stories
I nod obediently
Then carefully
Check
If her coffee
Has something mixed in it.

The gesture
Makes her
Burst out in laughter
Every single time.

And we repeat this
Day after day
Night after night.

I'm so used to it
That now
Even if I hear
"Cement flowers"
"popcorn candies"
Or
"balloon bullets"
I am mentally prepared
To understand
The story
Behind all of it.


That’s how it is.
She keeps daydreaming
About stuff
And I keep dreaming
about her.