In the rough crook of the old walnut tree lies a baby squirrel
looking over the vast green world he has come into
just outside the hidey hole where he was born.
From my bedroom window I have a perfect view
of him enjoying his perfect view of leaf and branch
studying for future purposes the possible ways
down and up across and back from where he lives
routes he will one day take when he’s a wee bit bigger
landing him most likely somewhere in the vicinity of
my red dog in a game of chase that he will always
always win.
