scrambling up oaks and maples, digging and
hiding, scurrying, waving their glorious tails,
flying from branch to branch.
As kids, we tried to capture them, but to no avail,
they eluded us; free agents, beyond our grasp.
As kids, we tried to capture them, but to no avail,
they eluded us; free agents, beyond our grasp.
Once we saw a squirrel unearth an acorn. Swear
it was a golden acorn.
I raced after my squirrel, watching his every swerve.
I raced after my squirrel, watching his every swerve.
From the high branches, heard him singing,
only it was more than a song. Swear
only it was more than a song. Swear
I heard him chanting God’s name.
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